


Never Tear Us Apart

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, NO coronavirus, Post Season 10, Spoilers Seasons 1-10, Terry really isn't a big part of the storyline, Things that should happen in season 11, possible season 11 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: “It’s Gallagher,” Mickey snipped, a scowl immediately settling on his lips. Ian felt that warmth he now associated with Mickey calling himself a Gallagher spread through his chest. He wondered if he’d ever get tired of hearing it.Basically, a fic about what comes next for Ian and Mickey. A season 11 fic with lots of domestic bitches scenes, with a hint of angst, and mass amounts of cute togetherness.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: We Take Care Of Each Other [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993684
Comments: 216
Kudos: 678





	1. Two Worlds Collided

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me, if they did, we'd get more Gallavich. I'm just here to play.
> 
> Hello! So I've been really into post season 10 fics because I love reading Ian/Mickey as a married couple. After reading (spoiler alert) that John Wells is rewriting the last season to incorporate corona (which in my opinion is the worst) I wanted to write a season 11 fic. 
> 
> Basically, I want this fic to be everything that I HOPE happens in season 11, which we probably won't get to see because the storyline sounds like it'll heavily be influenced by current events. (I'll also be honest and admit that I'd be fine if they ended the series after season 10. I'm tired of my ships not getting a happy ending and Ian and Mickey did, minus Terry, so I'm basically SO VERY afraid for s11 and what JW is going to do.) 
> 
> Also, who knows when we are going to get the season with everything going on. So here we are. I wanted to give this beautiful couple a really lovely last season because they deserve that. I also just love married Ian and Mickey.
> 
> If you have any feedback or suggestions for things you'd like to happen in the story, then leave a comment. I have a list of things I'd like to happen, but I'm open to suggestions. The title of the chapter and the story is from INXS, but Paloma Faith version is also very hauntingly beautiful. 
> 
> Thanks for checking the story out and I hope you enjoy! Stay healthy and safe!

_Don't ask me_

_What you know is true_

_Don't have to tell you_

_I love your precious heart_

_I was standing_

_You were there_

_Two worlds collided_

_And they could never tear us apart_

_~“Never Tear Us Apart” By INXS_

* * *

“Can you tell me, Mr. Milkovich, why would someone target the both of you?” The officer asked as he looked down at his notepad.

Looking at the name on his uniform, Ian wanted to roll his eyes at the name _Andy,_ but he knew that he needed to be the calm one in this situation. He didn’t like cops anymore than Mickey, but he also knew that his husband’s reaction was to run, so instead, he took a deep breath and reached forward to pluck a stray feather out of Mickey’s hair. His husband glanced at him with a small smile before turning back to the police officers who had been called out to attend to the drive by shooting at the Love Canal.

“It’s Gallagher,” Mickey snipped, a scowl immediately settling on his lips. 

Ian felt that warmth he now associated with Mickey calling himself a Gallagher spread through his chest. 

He wondered if he’d ever get tired of hearing that.

Doubtful, he mused.

It reminded him of long ago when Mickey started to refer to himself as his _boyfriend._ It had made him feel warm and soft and _loved_ , it was the feeling Ian always got when he heard that word. Now, he still felt all those same things, they were just magnified tenfold because they were _husbands_.

“We just got married. My dad hates gays. You do the math,” Mickey continued.

He swore he was going to roll his eyes, but instead, Mickey gritted his teeth, which was surprising. Ian knew he must be having a difficult time deciding if he should be outwardly mean to the cop, but that would also make the officer less likely to help them. Not that they’d probably do anything anyway. But right now, unfortunately for the both of them, they needed cops on their side, Terry was dangerous and he wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

Who knew what he was planning next, the thought made Ian feel sick to his stomach.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to touch Mickey. He wanted to reach out and gently put his hand on the small of his back, just to let him know he was there, but he also wasn’t sure how he’d react to any displays of affection while talking to the cops. Even though they were married now, there were some things that were too far embedded in their DNA, like a hatred for cops, a disregard for the law, and always being hyper aware of strangers reacting to them.

“So you think this was a hate crime?” the office asked in a bored voice.

“Listen, we had just woken up, we heard the squeal of tires and then the suite was shot up. What do you think it is?” Ian asked, interjecting before Mickey could insert his own brand of sarcasm into the situation.

The police made a note in his pad and then looked over at the other two guys who were looking through the rubble. 

Ian knew that there was another one somewhere who was trying to calm down the Love Canal owner who had become hysterical. God knew why, when Ian figured this place got shot up on a weekly basis. The bullet proof glass at the front desk was a testament to that assumption. 

“You find anything?” he called.

It was Ian’s turn to roll his eyes because he knew that nothing was going to come of this. He _knew_ they had to call the cops, well, the hotel did for them, but being two ex-cons, none of the cops seemed to be taking it seriously, especially when they found out that Micky was a Milkovich.

The thought was disheartening when he had wanted to start off this new chapter of their relationship on a more positive note. 

He knew Terry was going to try to ruin their wedding - it was all Mickey talked about for weeks before their big day. But he didn’t think he’d seriously try to kill Mickey or himself, and that was Ian’s own fault for forgetting for one second what Terry Milkovich was capable of.

Even though it was a long buried memory from his teens, he’d never forget that day when Terry found them and had Svetlana fuck the gay out of Mickey. 

He tried not to think of that time, but with Terry swarming them like an angry hornet, it just brought up all of the issues from their past that he’d tried to bury long ago. 

He knew Mickey wasn’t interested in rehashing any of it, Ian had tried one night while they were in prison, but it just got his now-husband pissed off at him for three days and a vow that he’d never bring it up again.

Now, here they were trying to keep Terry out of their relationship yet again, just like when they were kids and Mickey was forced to marry Svetlana. 

While he knew they were freer now than when they were younger, that didn’t mean Terry was magically going to go away. No matter how much Ian wished that was the case.

This time, though, Ian wasn’t running off to make himself feel better nor was he going to just let Mickey go. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to either one of them, even if the cops weren’t going to help.

“You two were in prison, right?” One of the officers said coming over to stand beside Officer Andy.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with prison. We told you that we just got married. Yesterday. Terry already burned down our wedding venue and he was pissed that we were getting married. This isn’t gang related. It’s a hate crime,” Ian said touching Mickey’s hip gently as he flinched at the reference of Terry burning down the Bamboo.

“We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” The office said shortly and then looked at Officer Andy who gave them a polite smile.

Ian sighed heavily and gripped Mickey’s hip tighter as he saw his shoulders tense. “Do you have a card?” he asked pointedly. 

They watched as the officer slowly handed it over and then Ian took Mickey’s hand and led them from the hotel, their duffle bag in his other hand. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and back to the safety of their house.

After the room had gotten shot up, Mickey had tried to resurrect the lust from earlier, but Ian wasn’t into it. He wanted to get them the fuck out of that room. He grabbed their change of clothes from the bag and made Mickey get dressed, which was quick thinking because the hotel owner had come bursting in seconds later. 

Mickey had carefully packed away their tuxes as Ian anxiously waited for the cops to get there. But immediately when the cops arrived, Mickey’s anger simmered right below the surface, especially when they didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. It seemed to only be getting worse the longer they were in that room.

The adrenaline was still coursing uncomfortably through him, but he tried not to perseverate on how close they’d come to fucking dying on their first official day of marriage. 

He wasn’t sure what they were going to do about Terry, but he did know that if he didn’t get Mickey out of there soon, then he’d erupt. He wouldn’t have his husband get thrown back in prison because of Terry Milkovich, so the best thing to do was get as far away from the Love Canal as possible and then calm Mickey down. 

“What the fuck?!” Mickey exclaimed slamming the door of the Royal’s Royce extra hard and then flicking off the cruiser that was parked beside them. 

“Fuck the police. Even when we’re the fucking victims, they won’t do shit. Bunch of fucking pricks,” he exclaimed.

“Fucking shitheads,” Ian agreed.

Leaning over to kiss him tenderly, Ian started the car to begin the drive back toward Glencoe to drop the car off as Liam had instructed and then take the train back to the Southside.

Ian made agreeable noises as Mickey ranted and raved, but his mind was focused on what they were going to do about the homophobic asshole who was now his father in-law.

Were they going to have to look over their shoulder until he dropped dead? 

Were they going to have to go back to prison to make sure they stayed safe? 

Were they going to be murdered because Terry was that much of a homophobic piece of shit? 

It was fucking bullshit that they should even be dealing with this in the first place, Ian thought. He felt the familiar frustration and anger he’d always associated with Terry and other homophobes rise to the surface. He knew just being married wasn’t going to make their life shiny and perfect, but he figured they could at least enjoy _some_ peace from shitstains in their life - maybe for a few days, at least? 

Not just 12 hours.

The thing was that no matter how annoyed and scared and _fucked up_ he felt about the Terry situation, it couldn’t pop the bubble that surrounded them. This bubble of pure happiness and warmth that seemed to protect them from the rest of the world. He still felt like he was floating on cloud nine knowing that they were _finally married_. That was something not even Terry Milkovich could pop. 

It reminded Ian of all the other times they had been reunited, but these feelings of pure elation far outweighed every other ‘honeymoon’ period they had before. It was something that always surprised him about his feelings for Mickey - how they grew, not declined over the years.

He remembered the first time they’d been in that ‘honeymoon’ period when Mickey had gotten out of juvie after being shot by Kash and he’d waited for him with Mandy. That summer had been bliss, just fooling around and having fun. It was one of those endless summers where everything just fell into place. 

He remembered how excited he would get when Mickey would reveal a little something more about himself or he’d just want to hang out with Ian. The sex was great, of course, but Ian wanted more and he’d spend more time than he’d ever admit imagining what more with Mickey would look like. 

His 15 year old self would be hyperventilating if he knew that they ended up fucking married.

But Ian’s favorite was when Mickey showed up in prison when he thought that he was looking forward to two miserable years behind bars without his family or really anyone who gave a shit. He’d been so scared and uncertain of what his future held and then the bright spot that was Mickey Milkovich entered their cell and it was like he’d won the lottery. And even though it was one of the more difficult times they had together, Ian loved every minute of it. How could he not when he got to be around Mickey every minute of the day?

Most couples only had one honeymoon - right after their wedding - but Ian had always seen every time they were reunited as a honeymoon. Afterall, he always felt warm, delighted, and loved every time they got together again. 

Most couples didn’t find themselves torn apart and reunited again and again, which is why Ian knew he’d never take their relationship for granted - they’d been through too much. This time, though, it was different because he knew there would never be an end; time was on their side. 

Nothing could tear them apart.

As they got on the highway, Ian reached for Mickey’s hand, in part to calm him down, but also to feel more at peace himself. 

It was a weird juxtaposition. On the one hand, he was angry with the Terry situation and the shithead cops. But on the other, he just felt fucking content. 

He knew not everything was going to magically fall into place, though. There were still things they had to figure out that had nothing to do with Terry.

Ian wasn’t keen on staying in the Gallagher house as newlyweds, but he wasn’t sure how Mickey felt about moving. Not to mention, they still had parole bullshit and who was going to make sure that Liam stayed in school? 

They may be married, but that didn’t mean their issues had disappeared magically, unfortunately. 

“...shoulda let me fucking kill him,” Mickey was saying right as Ian’s phone rang cutting through the swear words that were falling from his mouth.

“Can you get that?” Ian asked, not wanting to take his eyes off the road.

“Yeah?” Mickey asked. He said some ‘mhms’ and ‘okays’ and ‘holy shits.’ Then he hung up and Ian had a feeling that whatever news he was going to break to him wasn’t going to be good.

It would just be one more thing piling on the pile of shit that they were trying to wade through.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked, tightening his hands on the wheel.

“Peppermint Patty is in jail,” Mickey said heavily and Ian looked over at him quickly in shock.

“What the fuck,” he exclaimed.

“Carl just called. Apparently she slept with some underage girl...didn’t even know that was a thing,” Mickey muttered, shaking his head.

The car fell into silence as they continued to Glencoe, each lost in their own thoughts, but when Mickey squeezed his hand reassuringly, he knew his husband was giving him reassurance.

“You good, Gallagher?” Mickey asked quietly. 

When Ian glanced over, he found his husband gazing at him, just as he had yesterday when they exchanged their vows.

Ian grinned, “you’re here, right?” 

Mickey matched his grin and held his hand tightly until they got back home and to the chaos that awaited them.

* * *

“So what exactly happened?” Ian asked as he sat down at the kitchen table with a beer in front of him, Mickey was on his other side nursing his own beer, and Carl sat beside him. Lip was leaning against the counter, a frustrated look on his face. He kept checking his phone every few minutes.

“The cops arrested Debbie. She slept with Julia and her mom called the cops on her. Lip and Kev already went to go figure out how to get her out,” Carl said, stealing a sip from Ian’s beer.

“I could call Iggy? He could help us get the credit from the bail bondsman Terry uses,” Mickey asked, nudging him with his foot.

Ian glanced over at him and considered the question, “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Lip, what do you think?” 

“At this point, anything could help. When Kev and I went there to check on her, they said we couldn’t see her. She has to go through processing and shit,” Lip said irritably.

“How old is this chick?” Mickey asked.

“17, I mean I slept with her too,” Carl said, shrugging.

“Well hopefully her mom doesn’t find out,” Ian said woodenly. “Where’s Franny?” 

“Liam is with her upstairs. He’s keeping her busy.” 

Ian ran a hand through his hair as he considered the shitstorm that was brewing around them. 

First it was Terry and now they have to deal with this Debbie situation. They’d barely gotten a chance to enjoy some alone time away from all the chaos. 

He felt guilty for wishing that the drama could be held off, so they could enjoy being alone, but life didn’t work like that for them. 

He glanced over at Mickey and saw he was watching him. He wondered if he felt the same as he did. He’d ask when they were alone.

“Where’d this bitch go?” Mickey asked, breaking the silence. Ian was grateful he wasn’t going to have to figure this out alone. 

He knew Lip and Kev were helping, but there was just something about having Mickey on his side and trying to figure this out together that brought a fuzzy warm feeling to his chest. Mickey caught him staring and rolled his eyes, no doubt at the sappy look that was on Ian’s face. Beneath the table, though, Mickey reached forward to touch his thigh to give a reassuring squeeze and the tenseness through Ian’s body seemed to relax a bit.

“She left. Her mom came to get her,” Carl said.

“What about Sandy?” Mickey asked.

“She left too.”

“Alright, so what can we do? ” Ian asked, feeling at a loss of where to go from here.

There was a beat of silence as they all considered that question.

“They told us they’d call when we should come back, so I guess for now we have to keep Franny occupied and figure out how we can make her bail,” Lip said, running a hand over his face.

Carl nodded and stole another sip from Ian’s bottle.

He felt another squeeze on his thigh and he knew Mickey was just reminding him that he was here for him. He couldn’t be more appreciative that someone got it - got the Gallagher bullshit. 

He tried not compare his past dalliances, but he knew that none of them had ever really gotten his lifestyle. Mickey got it because he understood, better than anyone.

Smiling at him gently, he uncurled his fingers from his beer bottled and wrapped them around Mickey’s wrist. He felt his pulse point, reminding himself that he was there - something he’d started doing when he got out of the psych ward all those years ago when Mickey had crawled into bed with him the evening he’d gotten out. 

“I’ll call Sandy and Iggy and get them to help with the bail,” Mickey said after a moment.

“I think we can get away without saying anything to Franny for a few days,” Lip said quietly. “It’s not like she’s stayed away before.”

Ian nodded and with renewed determination they got up from the table and went up the stairs. He heard Lip ask Carl what the fuck he was thinking sleeping with Julia, but Ian figured that was a conversation that would be left to the two of them. He wasn’t interested in partaking in telling off Carl. Instead, he followed after his husband to their room. Before Mickey could call Sandy, he stopped him.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to use Terry’s credit when he wants us dead?” Ian blurted out.

Mickey bit his bottom lip and contemplated the question. “Probably not, but it’s your sister, man. What are we supposed to do?”

Ian debated that question. He didn’t want to leave Debs in there, but he also didn’t want to endanger either of them with Terry even more than the already seemed to be.

“Iggy and Sandy wouldn’t say anything.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Ian said quietly. He sat down heavily on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “Mick, we need to talk about Terry.”

Mickey sighed heavily and sat down beside him.

“Do you think he’ll try to do anything to us while we’re here? Do you think he’ll try to shoot up the house? Do you--” Ian began to ramble, but a hand on his cheek made him stop and look up into his husband’s eyes. He felt the urge to lean in and kiss him, but he knew they’d get sidetracked and they had two very real situations to contend with.

Instead, he waited for Mickey to say what he needed to while he struggled to stay calm, even though the idea of anyone hurting them was causing him to feel anything but. 

“Nothings going to happen, Ian,” Mickey said softly and as if to make his point, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Ian’s lips.

He smiled into the kiss and as they broke away, he leaned his forward against Mickey’s. He took in the air Mickey was breathing out and the residual adrenaline and anxiety he’d been feeling since this morning began to slip away. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until Mickey kissed him and he finally began to feel a little more normal.

“Listen, we knew Terry was never going to leave us alone. And we can’t do anything about the Peppermint Patty situation. But I know for a fact that you didn’t take your pills this morning and neither of us have eaten, so I’m going to go grab us some cereal and you take your meds. Then we can figure out what to do about both of these situations,” Mickey said reasonably.

Ian nodded, but stopped him before he could leave. “And the kids too. What are we going to do about Franny? And Liam? Especially with Lip moving out...”

Mickey gave him a soft smile before standing up and kissing him on the top of his head. “Yeah, them too. Let’s just take one step at a time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Ian smirked suddenly. “When did you become the level headed one?”

Mickey snorted, “I’ve always been the level headed one, bitch.”

Ian laughed as Mickey began to move out of the room. “Love you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but Ian could see the wide grin resting there. “Soft bitch,” he muttered and left the room, but even though there was distance between them, Ian could still hear the ‘love you too’ as he headed downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, Ian wondered what the fuck he’d done before Mickey Milkovich; he didn’t ever want to find out what he’d do if he left or worse…but he banished that thought before it could properly form. He was never going to find out.

* * *

Ian pushed away his bowl of cereal and then looked to Mickey who was slurping up the remaining milk. He smirked watching him, knowing that he liked drinking the dredges of soggy cereal. He thought it tasted better than when the milk was just poured in; Ian joked that he was just preparing for elderly life without teeth.

“I think we’ll probably get a call from DCFS,” Ian said, reigniting their conversation from earlier.

Mickey sighed and leaned against the wall their bed was pushed against. He set the empty bowl on the floor and then turned back to Ian with those emotive eyebrows that were just so fucking Micky Milkovich.

“So? Believe me, if Terry fucking Milkovich was okayed by DCFS, then so will this house.”

Ian frowned, “yeah, but--”

“Gallagher, if we worry about every fucking thing that’s hurled at us, then we wouldn’t do any other fucking thing. If DCFS comes, then they come. We can talk to Lip and Carl about what to do with Franny and Liam. We both have jobs, it’ll be fine.”

“I was thinking that we could take them in,” Ian said, chewing agitatedly on his lip. 

Mickey stared at Ian for a long moment and then nodded once, “Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay? You’re not going to fight me on this?” Ian asked anxiously.

Ian knew Mickey hated talking about feelings, but generally, when it was the two of them, he was much more prone to being open. But sometimes, Ian knew that it was difficult for him to be honest with his emotions, even with him. He could spot the signs of when to back away and when to push him, but that didn’t make these conversations any easier.

He watched as Mickey began to bite the side of his lip and pick at their blankets. He saw that as a sign of him being receptive to the situation, but he still wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

“What do you want me to say? No? I like Liam and Franny is, well, she just lost her mom. This is family, of course, we’ll help anyway we can,” he said, lifting his head to meet Ian’s gaze.

Ian let out a deep breathe he hadn’t realized he was holding and then he gave him a blinding smile. “Are you sure? It’s a lot to take on--”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him, “do I not look fucking sure, Ian? It’s not exactly how I wanted to start off our marriage, but what the fuck else are they going to do? That shithead brother of yours isn’t going to take them. I mean, he is dealing with his own shit. Who else is going to do it? Fucking Carl? I mean, I didn’t want to start off our first day married with being shot up either. Shit just happens and we gotta just deal with it and move past it. As long as we’re good, then I’m fine if you want to move to fucking New York City and become a goddamn Broadway singer. Hell, I’d follow you anywhere, as long as we’re happy.”

Ian let out a small laugh and then shuffled closer to him, making sure their bodies were touching. “Even Milkwaukee?”

Mickey snorted and wrapped an arm around his knee, resting on the top of Ian’s boot. “I mean, I’d bitch the entire fucking time about living in that shithole, but yeah. Even fucking Milwaukee. As long as we’re far away from your brother and that airhead,” he commented.

Ian smirked, “you know, I have a shitty voice, right? I mean, I’d never want to be on Broadway.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying, I’m in this,” Mickey said nonchalantly, but Ian could see the hint of a smile on his lips.

“I know. I am too, I just know that it’s a lot to ask. Taking in family members that you, you don’t really have to. I mean, not many people would - would do what you’ve done. I know what you did was for me--"

“Fuck off, Sappy.” Mickey said waving him off and Ian grinned at the light blush that was ghosting across his cheeks. He knew he was embarrassing Mickey, but the bashfulness was too endearing, so he leaned in and kissed him, wanting to show him how appreciative he was for him. Not just going to prison for him, but all the other stuff too. From taking care of him while he was sick to putting up with his crazy family. 

He pulled away and as they caught their breath he said, “Alright, so you’re in?” Ian asked, stirring their conversation back to the issue at hand.

Mickey nodded, “why the fuck not? There are worse things you’ve asked me to do.” 

Snorting, Ian brought his arm up and wrapped it around his shoulders to bring him closer. Mickey shuffled around and rested his head on his shoulder. Grinning down at how Mickey wasn’t even trying to act like it was like pulling teeth to cuddle up against him, Ian basked in the warmth that was filling his chest at just sitting there with him. While the topic of conversation had ended on a good note, he still was worried about his siblings and niece. But he couldn’t help feeling so cozy and pleasant and _stable._

This was better than any of their previous honeymoon periods because they weren’t racing against the clock. Instead, they got to enjoy their days together, rather than worry when it would end. They finally got to take their time.

“Remember when you first got out of juvie?” Ian asked softly.

Mickey laughed softly, his little puffs of breath dancing across Ian’s skin.

“Yeah, I remember how fucking hot that summer was.”

“That was a nice summer,” Ian mused. 

There was a beat of silence and Mickey pulled away to look at him. “Any reason you decided to visit memory lane?”

“I was just thinking…” Ian trailed off suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and sat a bit further back as he waited for what Ian was struggling to say.

“Jesus, you’re turning red, Gallagher,” Mickey said laughing.

“It’s - I’m just happy,” Ian admitted.

“Yeah, I am too,” Mickey said, sitting back against him and rolling his eyes. His expression plainly said ‘as if I didn’t fucking know that.’

“No, I mean, like really happy.”

“Yeah--”

“I just didn’t expect to ever feel so happy. Not after - after everything, it’s nice,” Ian admitted softly. 

Mickey didn’t seem to have a comeback for that and instead turned to face him and lean in for a kiss. Ian would always be amazed at how kissing Mickey every time was still so exciting. He had never been so excited to kiss someone as he’d been with Mickey. He had wondered, during those first few years together, if everyone got this feeling of excitement, but it was different with Mickey, he’d realized that after he kissed other men.

No one made him feel as loved as Mickey did. 

Nor as passionate.

Nor as wanted.

Nor as warmhearted.

He leaned into the kiss taking his time to open Mickey up. He felt his husband’s hand on his neck - an area that he knew he really enjoyed and then softly caressed the skin there, moving tenderly across the plains of flesh. His own hand moved from the back of Mickey’s head south to rest on his hip.

Breaking away to catch his breath, Mickey leaned his forehead against Ian’s as they both took each other in.

“You know, we didn’t get to finish our honeymoon,” Ian commented, finally feeling the last dredges of anxiety disappear as his lust for his husband began to build.

Mickey laughed quietly and leaned back in to give him another kiss. This one was more passionate than the last and Ian found himself flat on his back with Mickey hovering over him, straddling his waist. 

Ian could feel his dick rapidly hardening as Mickey ground down on him.

“Some fucking honeymoon we had. I think we should plan a real one, maybe go somewhere warm instead of Chicago. And fucking Terry shooting up the Love Canal. We had five more hours in that place before we had to come back here and he fucking ruined it,” Mickey grumbled.

Ian smiled lecherously up at him, “come here.” 

Mickey leaned forward to kiss him, his hands dragging across Ian’s skin under his shirt. As his hands were beginning to unbutton and unzip Ian’s pants, there was a knock on the door and Lip’s voice was heard on the other side.

“Hey, honeymooners, cops said we could go see Debs now. If you can pull yourselves off each other long enough, we’re headed down to the precinct. Carl’s going to watch Liam and Franny,” Lip said loudly.

They broke apart at the sounds of Lip’s voice and then Ian was pushing Mickey off to begin putting his clothes back in place.

“I can stay and help Carl watch Franny and Liam,” Mickey said, running a hand through his hair.

Ian frowned, “why? Carl’s fine watching them.”

“I just figured, you’d just want to go with your family,” Mickey blurted out biting his lip Ian had just been kissing.

Smirking, Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey hard on the lips before tugging him to a standing position.

“You _are_ family, don’t fucking forget it. But if you don’t want to go for other reasons, then it’s fine,” Ian said, hoping Lip wasn’t still outside their door.

Mickey hesitated and then shrugged, “we’ve already spent enough time with cops today, another few hours won’t hurt I guess.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed him again, before taking his hand and leading him downstairs and to the car Lip was borrowing from Tami. 

The three of them piled in, stopped to grab Kev, and then took off to figure out what the fuck was going on with Debs.


	2. They Say The World Was Built For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey realizes he's getting into a routine at the Gallagher household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited for this fic, especially after reading your feedback! Thank you for taking the time to comment, read, and kudo this story. I really appreciate it and it's helped me figure out some additional storylines. This chapter is kinda filler, which wasn't my intention, but it had to happen. I had to change some things around when I started writing and it just kinda took me to a different place. Anyway, I hope you guys like it! Like I said, this is a super fluffy fic and I make no apologizes.
> 
> Side note, I started watching The West Wing cause I needed something cerebral and I'd never seen it and Terry is on there! Made me laugh when I saw him. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy! Just a head's up, this is from Mickey's POV, if you're new to my writing style, I switch off every chapter. Also, chapter title is from Video Games By Lana Del Ray. Let me know what you think of this chapter and a new one will be up next week!

_ It's you, it's you, it's all for you _

_ Everything I do _

_ I tell you all the time _

_ Heaven is a place on earth with you _

_ Tell me all the things you want to do _

_ ~"Video Games" by Lana Del Ray _

* * *

_ Ring...ring...ring… _

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered, reaching a hand out and nearly knocking down the framed photo from their wedding he’d just placed on their bedside table yesterday before hitting ‘stop’ on Ian’s phone. 

It read 6:30am. 

He struggled to build up the motivation to start his day, knowing he was cutting it close if he laid in bed any longer. The hardest part was always leaving the warmth of his husband. Ian shuffled behind him, cuddling him impossibly closer and draped one of his long legs over Mickey’s effectively stopping him from getting up.

Smirking to himself, he ground his bottom against the morning wood that was poking him and felt Ian’s hand on top of his tighten. He stared at their fingers entwined and the smirk turned to a gentle smile. He’d never get tired of seeing their interlocked hands, whether it was when they were sleeping, during sex, walking down the street, or over breakfast. Slowly as to not wake him up, he began to untangle their limbs so he could start the day and begin cooking the most important meal of the day.

“Don’t,” Ian grumbled and nuzzled the area between the back of Mickey’s shoulders. He could hear him snuffling behind him and he knew that he was doing the weird Ian shit that Mickey always pretended bothered him, but really didn’t. 

He had his own kinks about Ian, anyway. His husband always indulged him so it was the least Mickey could do to let the redhead go a bit nuts sniffing him or palming his ass. Lately, he’d taken to running his hands up and down his thighs and Mickey wondered vaguely if this was a new kink or one that Ian had held in for fear of Mickey making fun of him. (Mickey couldn’t bring himself to make fun of him, though, at least not when he had just discovered how much he really liked running his tongue down his abs. He’d never had the time to do that before and now that neither of them were going anywhere, he liked exploring the dips and valleys of Ian’s sinewed chest.)

“It’s my turn to make breakfast,” Mickey responded, struggling to sound like he wanted to get out of bed when they both knew the truth. 

In all honesty, he was the one who usually made each of the meals in the house. Ian and Carl cleaned up and Mickey had taken to cooking, which was okay with him since he found that it was a good way to blow off steam. Sometimes, Liam and Franny would help and if he worked late, Ian would cook, but Mickey had become Master Chef in the Gallagher household.

“Five more minutes, please…” Ian whined and pulled him the slightest bit closer. He felt 

Ian dropped a kiss to his shoulder and Mickey bit back a smile knowing his husband was going to make him late if they stayed like this. 

He wished that he had time to show his ginger the right way to start the morning, but he was already pushing it each minute he stayed in bed longer. Besides, he was tired. Franny had woken them up again around 3am because she had a nightmare.

Trying to make some grumbling noises to put up some argument, Mickey didn’t try to move again, instead wiggling around until he was slotted against Ian just right, back to where he’d been when he had originally woken up.

He hadn’t realized that he’d drifted off until Ian’s snooze alarm started ringing and jerked him from his sleep. He groaned when he saw that he was now running 10 minutes late and roughly pushed Ian’s limbs from him before stumbling around the room to find a pair of khakis and a dark polo he’d probably have to change out of when he got to Old Army. He wasn’t walking through the Southside in a pink fucking polo, that was for sure. 

“Don’t go…” Ian called out and when Mickey glanced over at him with a rumpled polo in his hand, he saw his husband pouting at him. He smiled down at him and kissed him on the forehead before continuing to get dressed. He wanted to look semi decent today for his weekly meeting with Larry and he’d planned on showering, but now he didn’t have time. While the khakis were shitty to wear and already enough to make him a target, he tried to look nice, at least not like an ex-con. Plus, it was the dress code at Old Army.

“Come back to bed. We can pretend we’re sick and stay here all day long,” Ian groaned, stretching his long limbs and looking more enticing than ever.

Laughing in response, Mickey looked at him with raised eyebrows and Ian smirked, stretching his arms out toward him.

“Fucking making me late with your whining. I already have to skip my shower,” Mickey grumbled. 

As he opened their small accordion door and headed to the bathroom to get ready before starting breakfast, he could hear the echoes of Ian’s laughter follow him down the hallway.

While passing the old boy’s room that was now Carl’s, he made a mental note to talk to Ian about switching their room with Carl’s since there were two of them and he had that big room to himself. Now that it was just the five of them in comparison to the 90 people that seemed to always be coming through, Mickey wanted to make some changes.

Starting with getting a bigger room. They weren’t in prison anymore and now that this was where they were going to have to live for a while whether they wanted to or not, Mickey wanted to make it more comfortable.

After brushing his teeth and relieving himself, he went into the kitchen and took out the last of the eggs and bacon they had. He wrote down eggs and bacon on their growing grocery list and then began to cook to make sure it was all ready when the Gallaghers began to pitter-patter into the kitchen. 

As he waited for the eggs and bacon to cook, he took out a few pieces of bread and began to make PB and J sandwiches for Ian, Carl, Liam, Franny, and him to take to school and work. He cut up a few of the vegetables that looked like they were going bad - Ian had bought them and nagged him to include them in lunches - and then the last of the pudding cups and apples. Adding each of the items that they had used up to the list.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the lunches and the almost done breakfast, feeling accomplished with his work. 

The most surprising part of starting to take over the Gallagher household with Ian - not by choice, but was basically forced into it with Fiona gone, Lip moving out, and Debbie going to prison - was his enjoyment of making meals. He’d always enjoyed making pizza rolls for Ian or frozen burritos when they were living together the first time, but now it was real food, well as real as they could afford, and he found himself enjoying seeing other people like what he was making. Liam had bought him his first cookbook and he’d flipped through it, but some of the terms made him nervous, like sifting, broiling, and simmering. 

What the fuck were those? 

He’d liked to expand his cooking skills a bit more, but he was feeling a bit shy of stepping out of his comfort zone. 

It was almost like how he felt being invited back into the Gallagher household. 

When he’d lived here the first time, it was vastly different and even though the vibe in the house was the same - chaotic, quirky, and more love than Mickey ever thought he’d find in the Southside - it was still weird to be part of it instead of an outlier.

The door banged open to reveal an irritated Lip with Freddy sleeping in his arms as he was dishing out the eggs and the bacon onto a few plates.

“Didn’t realize you were also Betty fucking Crocker,” Lip said, eyeing the plates of food and the lunches on the counter.

“Fuck off, numbnuts,” Mickey snipped as Liam came downstairs with Franny in tow.

“Thanks, Mickey!” Liam said, stopping to grab two plates and then sitting at the table to dig into the food. Mickey reached for two of the lunch bags and set one down in front of Liam and then handed the other to Lip who was watching Franny and Freddy for the day. 

“Franny’s,” Mickey said as Lip began to look through it.

“We’re just going to be down the street at the new apartment. Said I’d work on it today,”

Lip said, rolling his eyes. Mickey chose not to respond as Carl came downstairs, grabbed a plate, and sat down at the table. He mumbled a tired ‘hey’ and proceeded to start shoveling food into his mouth. 

“Here,” Mickey said, dropping another lunch bag down in front of Carl. He nodded a ‘thanks’ as Ian rushed downstairs with wet hair.

“Thanks, Mick,” Ian said, kissing him on the cheek and taking the second to last plate. Mickey sat beside him with the last plate of food and began to eat.

“I don’t get one?” Lip asked scowling and reaching over to steal a piece of bacon from Carl’s plate who yelled out in protest.

“We’re out of eggs and bacon,” Mickey said woodenly. 

He wasn’t fucking cooking for College, even though he didn’t mind him as much as he used to. While the guy still got on his nerves, they seemed to have come to an impasse after the wedding. But that didn’t mean Mickey was cooking for the guy. He had enough mouths to feed with Carl, Liam, Franny, and Ian. Besides, Lip had his baby mama to cook for him or his own two fucking hands. 

“I can go shopping after work. The tips are usually good Fridays,” Ian said, glancing over at the list on the fridge.

“Can you get fruit snacks?” Liam asked eagerly.

“Write it on the list,” Ian said, finishing off the last of his breakfast in record time and stood up with the empty plates before heading toward the sink. Mickey watched as he stood up and grabbed his meds from the cabinet before taking them with water. 

He tried not to nag Ian about taking his pills - it was still a sore subject between them - but that didn’t mean he didn’t watch him to make sure he wasn’t going to slip up. He trusted Ian, but he also knew that life was stressful, especially right now and that generally fucked with the disease. They had enough to deal with without Ian getting manic or depressed. 

“I, uh, talked to the DA about Debs yesterday,” Lip said, causing the kitchen to freeze.

“And?” Carl asked.

Lip looked guilty for a moment and then down at Franny who seemed to have sensed something important was happening and was looking eagerly at her uncle.

“Liam,” Lip said pointedly and the youngest Gallagher sighed heavily before taking his niece’s hand and leading her into the other room. They heard her ask him where they’re going and Liam answered something about getting his backpack. Then Lip turned to look at the rest of them uncomfortably.

“They’re saying a year minimum, but the mom is pushing for a few,” Lip said quietly.

“Fuck,” Ian and Mickey said in unison.

“Yeah,” Lip said, glancing into the other room and then down at Freddy who was cuddled into his chest.

“When’s the next hearing?” Carl asked quietly.

Lip sighed, “they’re going to try to settle out of court, so since they already set her bond, we’re basically just waiting around to see what happens.”

“There’s nothing we can do?” Ian asked and Mickey could hear the underlying note of annoyance. He wished that he wasn’t on the other side of the kitchen so he could reach out and touch him. 

“We can visit her,” Mickey suggested, standing up and beginning to edge around the kitchen to stand closer to Ian.

The three Gallagher brothers looked at him with varying expressions - Lip and Carl looked surprised and Ian looked proud for whatever reason - and he shrugged in response. “I’m sure she’d like to see little red,” he added when no one else said anything.

Lip nodded slowly, “yeah, Tami is working this weekend, so I can take Franny up there, see how that goes.”

“I can go too,” Carl said quietly.

“We can watch Freddy,” Ian volunteered, not even bothering to glance at Mickey before he signed them up for babysitting duty. Mickey wanted to glare at him, but he knew he was just trying to help. He had to work anyway, so if Ian wanted to spend the weekend babysitting, that was on him. 

Their entire life seemed to be babysitting anyway and Mickey tried not to let that annoy him - he’d told Ian that he was okay with it - but they’d only been married for a few weeks and he already felt like their entire life revolved around kids and taking care of other people. He didn’t mind taking care of Ian - obviously - but he didn’t sign up for Franny or Freddy or whatever other fucking stray child walked through their door (it was only a matter of time). He just wanted time to themselves, they’d never gotten that before.

It didn’t exactly help that they’d barely gotten any time alone together for a week either. And the one instance they had was too quick for Mickey and he knew for Ian too. Mickey wanted a night to themselves, so he could thoroughly enjoy his husband’s body. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was, between long shifts, early mornings, and Franny’s nightmares, it was a wonder if they got a quickie in at all. 

He made another mental note to talk to Ian about setting some time aside for them, he was beginning to get cranky and if Ian’s endless touches (not that he was complaining) were any indication, he was getting impatient.

“Okay,” Lip said.

Mickey watched as he glanced at him as if he were waiting for him to jump in and say something helpful or maybe volunteer to do something? Mickey wasn’t quite sure. He already cooked breakfast, what else was he supposed to be doing? 

He was taking Liam to school during the week and watching Franny and even sometimes Freddy when he could, he figured he was pulling his weight. 

But the expectant look on Lip’s face made him feel as if he needed to do more, but at the Milkovich household, he was already going above and beyond, so what else did the Gallagher’s expect?

Instead, to prepare to go to work, he grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter where he’d discarded them when he’d come down to make breakfast. Then walked toward the living room to see Liam quietly talking to Franny. He nodded at him to signal that it was time to go.

“You ready, kid?” 

Liam nodded and reached out to hug his niece before standing up and walking back into the kitchen with her. Mickey walked over toward Ian who was still giving him a proud look, which was making him feel bashful and happy.

“Bye,” he muttered uncomfortably aware that everyone was staring at them. He kissed him goodbye - which washed the proud look away and was replaced with that special smile he seemed to only reserve for him - before heading toward the door with Liam behind him.

He chanced a glance back at Ian and saw him staring dazedly, so he gave him a teasing smile and left the house to take Liam to school. After, he’d head to see Larry before he went to Old Army.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the block when he realized they had a little routine going on, which was similar to before their marriage, but still different. Mickey knew Ian needed a schedule to keep himself balanced. However, it was still weird to realize they were building a little life together outside of prison, just being fuck buddies, or even without a Russian whore wife. Sure, during their summer of domesticity they had fallen into a strange normal, but this was  _ stable _ , unlike that time. It was healthier and they were both older and (maybe) wiser, unlike that time. But most importantly, they were stronger this time around. And Mickey would even argue that he somehow found himself more in love with Ian than during that summer. 

And back then he’d been drowning in love for his redheaded softie.

It was weird to have a new routine with Ian after all this time too. He was so used to having his own routine and one that wasn’t exactly normal. Now, he was making breakfast and lunches and dinner, taking Liam to school, going to work, and spending time with this family he now found himself a part of. It just felt like where he was supposed to be, which was ironic since he’d been here before. It was just different this time. 

“What’s up with Debbie?” Liam asked, shaking Mickey from his thoughts.

“Not looking good,” Mickey muttered, looking down at him apologetically.

Liam fell into silence at that and for some reason Mickey felt the need to make him feel better.

“They say she’ll be out in a year, but I’m sure she’ll get less. Overcrowding and shit,” he said giving Liam a tight smile.

Liam nodded in that same pensive manner that Lip did.

“You don’t have to continue walking me to school, you know,” Liam said as they neared the bus stop they had to take to the school.

Mickey smirked, “it’s on my way to my PO’s.”

He saw Liam scoff at that and he added, “I think it makes your brother feel better.”

“I’ve walked to school a lot by myself,” Liam said, giving him a weary look.

“Humor us, please.”

The bus came to a stop right on time and they climbed on with the rest of the morning rush. Mickey had always known Liam was a quiet kid, but the more time he spent with him, he realized that he was pretty smart too. 

But more importantly, lonely.

Something that Mickey could relate too, unfortunately.

Now, he was surrounded with people who gave a shit if he lived or died - well, maybe not Lip - but that hadn’t always been the case. Sure, he had Iggy, Mandy, and Sandy, but they had their own demons to contend with. While he was in Mexico, it was hard too. Not speaking the language, the culture shock, and the excruciating pain of missing - and trying to hate - Ian.

The other Gallaghers all seemed to have each other to rely on, but Liam was substantially younger than the rest of them and by now, most of his siblings had their own lives and were too self-involved.

He tried to do what he could for the kid, but he knew it had to be hard, which is probably why he was spending so much time with Frank or why he’d taken to trying to take care of Franny, despite Ian trying to explain that it was okay if he wanted to be a kid while they made sure the littlest Gallagher was cared for.

It had been a rough two weeks for Franny, but Mickey felt like they were coming to terms with it. She missed her mother and knew something was going on, but between Ian mollycoddling her, Mickey including her in making meals, Carl teaching her about the military, and Liam making her laugh, she was doing better day-by-day.

Mickey didn’t really want the kid spending any time with Frank, but there wasn’t much he could do when he worked eight hour shifts five days a week. They needed the money now more than ever, especially with Debbie in the slammer and Ian’s meds weren’t exactly cheap even with their shitty health insurance. There were less mouths to feed, but that didn’t mean the bills went away. 

Mickey had even been considering asking for a raise or at least getting a better job. He hated the one he had now - mostly because of the uniform - and had been considering talking to Larry about doing something else.

He wanted to be better, make more money, and avoid falling back into his old ways. And he had slipped up, but not since they’d been married. Mickey didn’t want to tempt fate and land himself back in prison and be separated from Ian once again, they’d already spent too much time apart.

Since their wedding two weeks ago and the subsequent disasters that followed with Debbie and Terry, it had been a whirlwind of trying to figure out how to get the former out of jail while avoiding the later. Terry hadn’t done anything else to them, for which they were both thankful, but Mickey knew it was only a matter of time. He had traded looking over his shoulder for the cartel to Terry and he wasn’t sure when he’d strike next. 

As for Debbie, it was an ongoing issue that they were all dealing with, which meant Ian and Mickey were watching Franny and Lip was talking to Debbie’s lawyers. Carl visited Debbie pretty often and had talked to the arresting officers due to his gig trying to get in with the police (although, Mickey didn’t understand that one), and Liam (they were hoping) would just enjoy being a kid for a bit longer.

So while the last two weeks had been different, Mickey was still pretty familiar with dealing with being on guard to protect his family and the shitshow that consisted of jail sentences. To him, both things were fairly common growing up as a Milkovich. 

What wasn’t common was the fact people actually gave a shit and he had people on his side. Sure, Iggy, Sandy, and Mandy stood by him, but they were also dealing with their own shit. And while Mickey knew Lip and Carl and even Liam had shit going on, they also worked together and checked in with each other and acted like a  _ family  _ and that was the weird part of it all.

He wasn’t sure how to be a part of a family that trusted and loved each other openly.

Even with this sister, he could probably count on one hand how many times he’d said ‘I love you’ and he knew for a fucking fact, he’d never said that to Sandy or Iggy. It just sounded... _ weird _ .

But the Gallaghers seemed to do it all the time.

Not just in their words either, but their actions.

And not just by making meals, which had more and more become Mickey’s area of expertise.

The first week Mickey had been out of prison, Debbie and Carl had sat him down and asked him about his intentions with Ian.

It was fucking weird and while he’d laughed it off, he didn’t know what to say when Debbie said, “Treat him right or we’ll bury you” with a serious nod from Carl.

A few days after he and Ian had gotten married, Lip was over and had told him begrudgingly that he was glad they had tied the knot and he was happy for them. Mickey had been awestruck at Lip Gallagher telling him that out of all Ian’s boyfriends - and there hadn’t been many, Mickey wanted to point that out - he liked him the best. 

Mickey was the best for his brother.

Then there was Liam, who he seemed to continue getting saddled with and who had dropped a cookbook on the table one day as a ‘thank you’ for helping with his homework. While he wasn’t the best at English, he did like math and helped with fractions and turning percentages into decimals and shit. And for whatever reason, Liam wanted to show his thanks. He tried to brush it off as wanting more options for dinner than pizza rolls and frozen burritos or frozen pizza, but Mickey saw it for what it was. 

He hadn’t expected when he married into the family that he’d be treated as a fucking Gallagher. He figured he’d just be Ian’s husband or something.

When Debbie had her arraignment to set her bail, Lip told them all what time and to be there. He had figured he was just fucking with them and no one would show up, but they all did even V and Kev. The only people who’d ever shown up to any of his court shit was Mandy (until she moved to Indiana of all places), Sandy (when she wasn’t in jail), Ian (even after they broke up), and Svet (that one he never understood). Sometimes, Iggy if he was out of jail, but for the most part, he was left to his own devices.

Now, he was part of something bigger and it was just... _ different _ .

It reminded him of when they were trying to figure out Ian’s bipolar shit during that summer of domesticity. He’d talk to Lip or Fiona when Ian was acting particularly out of character or they’d come to him to try to get Ian to go see a doctor and he felt a part of something bigger than he even understood at the time. 

Here they had been working together to make sure Ian got what he needed.

Now, it was Mickey being invited into a family that seemed to have room to welcome him - that fucking wanted him there.

This time it wasn’t about Ian’s bipolar - thank fuck for that - it was about taking care of the people around him because he knew Ian would crumble if his sister stayed in lock up or if Terry fucking shot up the house. Hell, if Liam or Franny were taken away to live in a foster home.

And while Mickey could tell himself he was doing it all for Ian, he’d always had a soft spot for Debs who always told it like it is without giving a fuck, which reminded him of Fiona. Carl was funny and laid back in a way that reminded him of Iggy and he had a gold heart like Ian. Liam was smart and wasn’t like other kids, which made him good company. He knew when to be quiet or give some sage advice for someone who wasn’t even a teen yet. Then there was Franny who while she’d been dealing with a lot and had frequently interrupted his and Ian’s time together, he felt for the little girl. He knew what it was like to lose a mom at a young age and while Debbie wasn’t gone forever, it was still shitty. And while Lip wasn’t his favorite, they’d started to have back porch cigs together (despite Lip’s attempts to stop, Mickey knew he was probably a shit influence) and complained about the little things they could control in life. Ian drinking the last of the OJ and forgetting to write it on the list or Tami accidentally giving Freddy a rash with the new diaper whatever the fuck she bought. 

It was a strange time, but Mickey wouldn’t trade it for anything. He’d wandered around for years trying to find somewhere he fit in and low and behold he ended up exactly where he’d been years previously - in the Gallagher household. 

He was actually growing used to this strange  _ family togetherness  _ or whatever. Which scared him because the last time he’d grown comfortable - during that summer of domesticity, he’d had the rug pulled out from under him. So he knew he had to keep constant vigilance for Terry and other dangers that could pop their little bubble of happiness.

“I’ll see you later, Mickey,” Liam said, pulling the stop on the bus.

Mickey looked down at him and then out the window, surprised to see they were already here.

“Okay, kid, I’ll see you for dinner,” he said as Liam got off with some other school children. He watched him walk to the school as the bus took off further into downtown, toward his PO’s office.

He got off in five more stops and then he walked into the building where Larry worked. Pressing the number three for Larry’s floor, he found himself outside his office much faster than he wished. Taking a deep breathe, he pushed open the door and checked in before sitting down and waiting for Larry to call him up. 

After the shit with Paula, he was afraid Ian would land with another crazy PO, but he’d actually ended up with Fiona’s old PO, who while a tough ass, wasn’t so bad. 

Mickey just knew he hated working back at Patsy’s - it made him feel like he’d fallen back to where he’d been to begin with - and he hated having to be home by curfew. 

However, she’d been cool and so had Larry when they asked for an exception for their wedding night.

At this point, Mickey would take any PO that wasn’t trying to land him or Ian back in prison.

“Mr. Milkovich! How are you? How’s the week been? Are you doing okay?” Larry asked joyously, coming to get Mickey and lead him back to his desk.

Mickey glanced around at the other people in the office waiting for their POs and then settled into the chair. 

He had told Larry that he was going to change his last name, but he must’ve forgotten since he kept calling him by his original last name. “I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“Before we get started, let’s get a sample,” he said wiggling the cup at him.

Scowling because this was the worst part of the visit, they went back to the bathroom and Mickey peed in a cup while Larry went on and on about his weekend plans with his wife in Wisconsin.

“Oh, by the way!” he said, taking the cup from Mickey and dropping it off as they headed back toward his desk, “I wanted to give you an update on the shooting in the hotel you and Mr. Gallagher were in…” Larry began to click on his computer and then gave him a gentle smile. “Apparently, they caught the guys who did it. Security camera at the Love Canal got their license plate and they were arrested last night.”

Mickey blinked, not sure if he understood what exactly Larry had just said and any desire to correct him about his new last name went flying out the window when he realized he and Ian may be safe. The police had actually done their job and caught the guys? Fucking crazy. “They, uh, were caught?”

“Appears so. Two men named Ozzy Kravchenko and Craig Boyko. Do you - do you know these men?” Larry asked, looking over at him curiously.

Mickey frowned not expecting to hear those two names. He’d expected Larry to tell him that Terry Milkovich was back in prison, but instead, he was given these two strangers that he’d never heard of. The knot of anxiety that had persisted since the hotel shooting came back and he felt his shoulders tense back up when he realized he and Ian weren’t safe yet. Did these guys actually do it or had Terry hired them? Was Terry pining it on them?

“No.” 

“I see, well, they haven’t confessed yet, but it was their car and they had illegal guns at their residence, so hopefully, they’re our boys,” Larry shuffled some papers around and then clicked on his computer before clasping his hand and looking at Mickey in what could only be described in a fatherly way. “So, tell me, what is new? How’s your week been? I know that you two are still dealing with your sister in-law’s case, but how’s everything going so far?”

Mickey shrugged and tried not to slouch in his chair. He always hated this part - the small talk part - of the meeting. He’d rather just report everything was good to Larry and then take off, but his PO always wanted to know more than he wanted to give. 

“Things are fine. It’s - I feel bad for Debbie’s kid, she’s been having nightmares...” Mickey muttered begrudgingly.

Larry gave him a sad smile, “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad things are good. When my kids had nightmares, I usually read them a story. Perhaps try that? I know it can be hard being a first time parent.”

Mickey nodded, but didn’t say anything to that. When Franny would wake him or Ian up, they’d just take her back to her room and lie there with her until she fell asleep again. Once or twice he or Ian fell asleep in there and Mickey hated sleeping apart from him. He considered vaguely that perhaps they should temporarily move into Debbie and Franny’s room instead of switching with Carl… Would that be easier? But then Debbie would come back and they’d have to move around again… 

“How are you liking work? You still like it?”

Mickey shrugged, not wanting to admit that he hated his job. Larry had gotten it for him - twice - and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But he hated trekking up to Water Tower and he hated dealing with the mothers and shitty teenagers. More than anything, he hated the outfit.

“It’s fine I guess...”

“Your coworkers like you,” Larry said looking down at his notes.

Mickey shifted in the chair, finding that hard to believe. He thought he scared his coworkers more than anything.

Larry looked up at him patiently and Mickey wondered if he was supposed to say something more.

“You know, Mickey, you can do more. I know that you got your GED in prison and I know that working security is not the end-all-or-be-all that you may think it is. I’m not sure what’s going on with your sister in-law’s case, but I’m sure you’re spending more money than you’d like. Perhaps, it would be advisable if you began to explore more options. I think you could do very well in--”

“I’m fine working security,” Mickey interrupted, not wanting to rock the boat.

Larry raised his eyebrows at him and began to dig around in his drawers. He slid a brochure across the desk and grinned encouragingly.

“These are some options you have, take a look and let me know if you want to add to your resume rather than stay where you are.”

Mickey stared down at the smiling faces on the brochure. It was titled ‘Life After Prison: Your Next Career’ and then up at Larry.

“Did someone say something at Old Army cause--”

“No, no,  _ they like you _ . I’m just saying that things have to be a little tough right now with so much going on and it may be beneficial to find a better job for your current situation. Working at Old Army is a step in the right direction, but I’d like to see you go further Mr. Milkovich,” Larry said.

Mickey stared at him not understanding why he thought that he even  _ could _ do more. No one, except Ian, thought that he was more than just some Southside thug.

“Take the brochure. Talk about it with Mr. Gallagher. See if anything catches your eye,” he said smiling brightly.

Sliding the brochure closer to him, Mickey picked it up and then folded it and put it in his khaki pocket. 

“If there’s nothing else…” Mickey said, eyeing the clock on the wall.

“Nope, let me know about the jobs and I’ll see you next Friday. Be careful out there,” Larry said meaningfully.

Mickey nodded and began to stand up when he stopped, remembering what he’d wanted to say earlier to Larry. 

“You can call me Mr. Gallagher, too, you know. It’s _Mikhailo Gallagher_ now. We got it officially changed yesterday,” Mickey said pointedly.

Larry smiled genuinely and then nodded once, “I apologize,  _ Mr. Gallagher _ .”

Mickey gave him a tight smile and then left the office, the brochure weighing heavily in his pocket.


	3. They Radiate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian tries to juggle everything while Mickey works late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story! I am so happy people are enjoying it! Thank you to those of you who have commented and kudoed as well! I appreciate the feedback so much. It's always great to know what people think of the story so far. 
> 
> This chapter was a little more difficult since so much stuff is going on. I also was planning on something completely different happening, but that'll occur next chapter, it may be more fun from Mickey's POV anyway. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy, if legal/custody stuff is wrong, let me know, I've just learned what I know from the internet. I hope you guys enjoy! Leave a comment, please, to let me know what you think! Enjoy and stay safe!

_I’m running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind_

_Oh my heart was all black_

_But I saw something shine_

_Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine_

_I could share it with you, if you gave me the time_

_I’m all blood knuckles, longing for home_

_It it weren’t for second changes, we’d all be alone_

_~”Second Chances” By Gregory Alan Isakov_

* * *

Thirty minutes after his shift at Patsy’s ended, Ian stepped into the grocery store, the list from the fridge in hand as he grabbed a cart and began to push it toward the produce section. The list wasn’t long, so he figured he’d be home just in time to start dinner by six. Mickey was working until close tonight since he’d started later due to having to meet Larry. 

Ian felt lucky that for the most part, their shifts always lined up, but he was also ready to start finding a better job with better pay. Just working the lunch or breakfast crowd wasn’t really doing much money-wise and frankly, working in Patsy’s was giving him flashbacks to a time he’d rather forget. 

He wouldn’t mind getting his job back as an EMT, but his PO had suggested waiting at least a year. In the meantime, she suggested looking into similar careers such as substance abuse counselor or a counselor for troubled youth, but Ian wasn’t completely sold on it, not when he’d worked so hard to be an EMT. He didn’t really want to be surrounded by people like Frank, but his PO kept telling him to look into it.

Pushing the cart down each of the aisles, he grabbed each item on the list, occasionally picking up additional products. He was standing in the chips aisle trying to make up his mind on what to buy - Cheetos or Doritos for Mickey - when his phone began to buzz.

“Hello?” he asked, not bothering to look at the screen. Grabbing the Cheetos - knowing Mickey liked those better - he pushed the cart further down the aisle to grab the cookies he liked.

“Ian? Where are you?” Liam asked in a hushed tone.

Frowning, Ian reached out to grab the cookies and then head toward the checkout. “The grocery store, why are you whispering?”

“DCFS is out front. I heard them knock, but I didn’t want to answer till someone else was home,” Liam said and Ian swore his heart stopped for a second before picking up again.

“Fuck, is anyone there? Is it just you?” Ian pushed the cart quicker toward the checkout, looking for the shortest line.

“I called Lip and he’s coming home with Franny and Freddy, but he told me not to answer the door until someone got here. I figured I’d call and give you the head’s up. I texted Mickey too, but--”

“He’ll be home around 9,” Ian interrupted, breathing a sigh of relief when the woman in front of him was finished with her order.

“Listen, I’ll be home soon, I’m just at the store. Don’t answer the door until you hear Lip or I, hell, even Carl.”

“Carl’s working late too.”

“Shit, okay, I’ll be home when I can,” Ian said, throwing the groceries onto the conveyor belt and earning an annoyed look from the checkout woman. He put his phone in his pocket and gave her a sheepish look.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he took out his credit card and paid, trying not to look too impatient. He tried to help as best as he could to package up his food, but it didn’t seem to be fast enough and earned himself another glare from the old woman.

“Thanks,” he said grabbing the bags and hurrying out of the store. He booked it to the L platform, thankful he was only a few stops away. 

While he waited impatiently, he cursed the fact they didn’t have a car and made a mental note to talk to Mickey about how they should start saving up for one. 

And then he stopped to think about for a moment. 

_He was going to save up for a car with Mickey_ and they would be _sharing_ it. It was such an odd thought, he felt the anxiety that was crawling through his skin slow down as he marveled - not for the first time in the two weeks they had been married - at the fact they actually crossed the finish line.

They were married.

That meant buying cars and saving money and whatever the fuck else normal married people did together .

Of course, he knew they’d be sharing shit, but it was strange to realize this dream he’d had for so long was becoming a reality. Once he got a better job and Mickey found one he actually liked that didn’t have anything to do with guns and drug runs, maybe they could start thinking about what they wanted their future to look like.

They had talked about children, but what about the other stuff? Did they move out of the Gallagher house? If they did, when? And what kind of car should they buy when they had money for one? What about where they wanted to live? Should they even stay in Chicago? And circling back to children, when did Mickey want to adopt? Did they even adopt or would they try having a kid with some surrogate? 

He smiled to himself as he recalled the long ago daydreams of a future with Mickey that he’d had as a teenager wondering how many of them would come to fruition. He was taken out of all the possibilities Mickey and him could have together when he heard the telltale signs of the L coming down the tracks. 

Quickly getting on, reality crashed back around him as he squeezed on with his bags, thankful he’d gotten the boot off, so it was easier to maneuver around Chicago. 

Grabbing onto the nearest pole, the anxiety settled back in as the train neared his stop. He hoped whatever he was going to walk into at home wasn’t going to be too bad. He anticipated Lip would get there before him since he was down the street working on the apartment, but with their luck, something probably came up.

Once he got off the L, he hurried toward North Wallace Street, the bags of the groceries digging into his arms and hitting his legs hard enough to cause bruises.

He decided to go through the back door of the house, trying to sneak in without DCFS seeing him and called out to Liam when he got in.

“Thank God, she’s been sitting in her car eyeing the house for like an hour,” Liam said worriedly. “Had to hide in Debbie and Franny’s room.”

“Where’s Lip?” Ian asked, setting the bags on the floor. 

Liam shrugged, “I don’t know, he said he was working on the apartment, but he should’ve been here by now.”

Ian frowned and reached into his pocket to find out where Lip was when he came barreling into the kitchen with Franny holding his hand and Freddy in his other arm.

“Where have you been?”

Lip rolled his eyes and muttered ‘Tami.’

“What happened?” Ian asked, beginning to put groceries away.

“Another fight,” he said shortly, setting Freddy in the playpen as Franny went over to the kitchen table and took out her crayons and coloring book. 

“I thought you said DCFS is here,” Lip said, turning to Liam.

“They’re in the car,” he said right as there was a knock on the door.

Lip and Ian froze and looked at each other before the older Gallagher took a deep breath and went to answer the door. Ian finished putting away the groceries and tried to act nonchalant as he heard Lip talk to the social worker.

“Ian? Can you bring in Franny and Liam?” Lip called out to him in his politist voice.

Ian went over to Franny as Liam went into the other room. 

“Hey, Franny, you wanna color in the other room?” Ian asked as she scrunched up her nose. He thought she was going to say ‘no’ with the annoyed look on her face, so he began to think of ways he could get her into the other room without causing a scene. 

“Come on,” Ian tried, wondering if it would be wrong to bribe her.

“Okay,” she said finally sliding her coloring book and crayons off the table and walking with him into the living room. She sat next to Liam on the couch and Ian leaned against the doorway watching the young blonde woman talking to Lip. She looked up when the two redheads came in.

“I was just telling your brother that we’re just doing a routine inspection. After the unfortunate situation with Deborah, it's a procedure if she has a child, you know to make sure she’s not in danger,” the blonde said looking at Franny.

She looked down at her clipboard and then up at them, “I’m Rosemary, I’ll be the new caseworker for both Liam and Franny. Now, if I understand correctly, Fiona and Frank Gallagher are the co-guardians of Liam and Franny’s father is dead, so Deborah Gallagher is the sole guardian of her?”

“That’s correct,” Lip said and Ian moved a little further into the room. However old he was, social workers still put him on edge, just like cops. He doubted that was something that would ever go away. But the social workers always reminded him how easily things could be torn away from him, even if they did have the best of intentions.

“Do you want water or anything? I just went to the store,” Ian interrupted before she could get further. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Now tell me, who lives here? And where are Fiona and Frank Gallagher?” she asked looking between them. 

Ian felt a crushing occur in his stomach at the question. He always hated that question, but now with Fiona gone, it seemed even more hurtful to know the sister he had trusted and depended on for so long was as useless in a situation like this as Frank. 

He knew he’d told her to go, but he figured she’d have come up with a plan for Liam, instead of just ditching her co-guardian duties. He was glad she was living her life, but at what expense when Liam still needed her?

He wished she was here right now, she’d be able to know what to say to get the social worker off their case and make sure that Liam stayed with them, but he also knew he was an adult and it was time to step up, especially for his littlest brother who had been left to fend for himself.

Fucking Frank.

Fucking Fiona.

“Fiona is working and Frank is...working,” Lip said and cleared his throat, “and living in the house is Fiona, Frank, Ian, his husband, Mickey, Carl, Debbie, Liam, Franny, and my son and...girlfriend, Tami.”

“I see, and how do you all fit in this house?” she asked, looking around suspiciously.

“Well, we have a trailer,” Lip said and Ian wondered if he was going to add in that he was moving out soon.

“And when did you get married, Ian? I don’t have that in my notes,” she asked. “In fact, you didn’t live here the last time a social worker was here.”

“Uh, no, I was...living with my now husband,” Ian said, stretching the truth. He knew she could easily find out the truth, in fact, he was sure that it wouldn’t take much on her part at all to find out he was in prison, but he also knew social workers were bogged down with a shit ton of work and very rarely were actually invested in digging into what people told them. Not unless there was cause for it. “We got married a few weeks ago and moved back in when all the sh - stuff with Debbie went down.”

“I see. Alright, well, I’m going to inspect the house and then we can go from there, figure out what’s going to happen with Frances,” Rosemary said standing up and beginning to walk around the room.

“What do you mean ‘what’s going to happen with Franny?’” Ian asked, glancing at his niece who was still coloring in her Princess book.

“Well, the accusations brought against Deborah are very serious. You’ll want to talk to her lawyer, but it would be best if someone was awarded temporary custody over Frances while Deborah is serving her time,” Rosemary said looking at the hole in their wall and making a note. “You should really fix this.” she said waving her pen at the wall.

“Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” Ian heard Lip mutter and he shot him a look.

“I’d recommend talking to Deborah about one of you becoming a temporary guardian while she’s away. Either of you, I think will do. You both seem like stable young men, although the courts generally favor married couples since there is more stability,” Rosemary said walking into the kitchen.

Ian looked over at Lip, who shrugged in response. 

“What do you think?” Lip asked quietly.

“I’ll talk to Mickey,” Ian said, already knowing they needed to have a conversation about not just Franny, but Liam too. 

He looked at his littlest brother sitting quietly on the couch, watching them and he felt a wave of guilt for how he’d been shuffled around. They were old enough to take sole responsibility for Liam now and with Fiona out of the picture and Frank never really in it, it would be better if one of them became his sole guardian for him too.

Franny would be okay for a few months without Debbie, but Liam had an upward battle of at least eight more years of dealing with the system and Ian didn’t like those odds. At least with a yearly visit from DCFS or whatever it ended up being, they wouldn’t have to lie for Fiona or make it sound like Frank was a stand up father. 

Ian felt confident in taking over as guardian for Liam, but he didn’t want to put that on Mickey without talking to him first. Based on their previous conversation, he knew it wouldn’t be a big deal, he liked Liam, but Ian didn’t want to rock their still new marriage by making choices for the both of them. He was trying to do shit better this time around, when it was a miracle that they even had this second chance - although it was probably more like the eighth chance or something ridiculous like that. 

Ian glanced over at Rosemary who was heading upstairs and he hoped that all the guns Mickey had stowed away were hidden well enough and whatever weird shit Carl brought home wasn’t illegal since he was trying to get into the police academy.

* * *

After the DCFS visit, the house was quiet as Ian started making dinner. The visit hadn’t been as painful as past ones. Rosemary had told them to fix a few things, which Ian knew they had been checked for before. She told them she’d be back in about a month and they should talk to Debbie about who would get temporary custody while she was in jail. She also added that she’d like to meet Frank or Fiona next visit and Lip and Ian shared a meaningful look as she left. With Rosemary out of the house and on to ruin someone else’s night, Lip and Ian knew they weren’t out of the woods yet and the next thing they needed to do was talk to Debbie, Fiona, and a family lawyer.

The surprise visit cast a strange atmosphere over the house as Lip went back to the trailer and Liam and Franny sat at the table as he cooked. Carl had gotten home a few minutes ago and had rushed upstairs with a mumbled greeting.

Since Mickey was generally the one who made dinner but was still at work, Ian volunteered, not wanting to subject everyone to a dinner by Lip or Carl who could only reheat food or read directions on frozen packages.

As Ian chopped up tomatoes and avocados he’d picked up from the store to add to the taco salad he was making, Sandy came through the back door with a disgruntled look on her face.

“Mickey won’t be home until later,” Ian said as she collapsed at the table next to Liam and Franny who had been quiet since the social worker had left.

Ian could see the cogs in Liam’s head moving as the visit from DCFS stayed with him. Franny seemed to be too young still to understand what was going on, but she was taking a hint from her youngest uncle and seemed to sense things were shifting. They were both working on homework or coloring, in Franny’s case, which Ian was thankful for since dinner was taking longer than he wanted it to.

“I’m here for dinner, you invited me, remember? To talk about Debbie?” Sandy said in irritation.

Ian glanced at her as he began to dump everything into a bowl, making sure to leave out the items that he knew not everyone would eat.

“Oh right, sorry, it’s - it’s been a long day,” he said as a distant memory of inviting Sandy over for dinner resurfaced.

The problem was he forgot that Mickey was going to be home later and therefore, he’d have to make conversation with her. It was times like these he missed Mandy. Sandy wasn’t the worst Milkovich he’d gotten saddled with talking to, Terry would forever take that title or Colin, who seemed to have inherited his father’s homophobia, but she actively disliked him. Not because he was gay, but because she thought Mickey could do better, and a part of him agreed. He’d hurt Mickey a lot over the years and while he knew those injuries had turned to scars, that didn’t mean they didn’t linger in the back of their minds. Sandy was the one most vocal about the way Ian had treated Mickey and the married couple may have put it behind them, but the female Milkovich hadn’t.

He didn’t blame her. He would hate himself too for the things he’d done to Mickey - he _had_ hated himself for awhile for the things he’d done to him. So he really didn’t need Sandy reminding him how shitty he’d been. But this was their second chance and he wasn’t interested in repeating past mistakes. He’d lived a life without Mickey before and he wasn’t interested in doing it again. Not when they had so much to lose; not when he knew there was no one else for him except Mickey.

It was always Mickey. 

He was an idiot for thinking anyone else could take his place. 

But that didn’t mean everything was perfect. There were still areas that were a little too raw for them.

Ian had a theory that Mickey would never forgive him for leaving him in prison after that Sammi bullshit, but he wasn’t willing to bring it up. Ian didn’t think he’d get over the guilt either, especially from his period when he cheated on Mickey while he was particularly manic. Besides apologizing and never doing it again, he wasn’t sure what he could do other than talk about it. And they had - _a lot_ \- while in prison, but since getting married, they didn’t have time to figure out how to move past their past. It was just easier to let it lie there, except Sandy brought it up on the off occasion and Ian knew that it bothered Mickey.

He just didn’t know how to make it better, besides cutting open old wounds and rehashing their past.

Of course, neither of them wanted to do that.

They were both enjoying this ‘honeymoon’ period where they got to spend as much time together as they wanted without worrying about what tomorrow would bring, other than homicidal homophobic fathers and custody issues.

“What’s going on?” Sandy asked and Ian glanced over at the kids at the table. She followed his gaze and then gave him a pointed look. “They’re going to find out one way or another, they have ears.”

He focused on finishing off the ground beef before he looked back at her. 

“It’s not that, DCFS came by--”

“Fuck them, if Terry can get away with--”

“They aren’t going to take Liam or Franny away. We just have to...we have some shit we gotta figure out. Debs may be in there for awhile,” Ian said, glancing at Franny who was distracted with her Princess coloring book.

“What types of things?”

“Just...shit I gotta talk to Mickey about.”

“Well, you can practice on me,” Sandy suggested.

Ian looked at her with surprise, not knowing how to respond to that. Sandy had always leaned toward animosity with him, so hearing that she was open to having a cordial conversation was, well, _different_.

“DCFS thinks that someone should get temporary custody of Franny so she doesn’t get put in foster care,” Liam butted in not even looking up from his homework. 

“Hm, it makes sense…” Sandy mused.

“Lip could do it, but he’s already living in that trailer and fixing up the new apartment. Not to mention taking care of Freddy and all the shit with Tami. Carl isn’t...well, it’s Carl. It just makes sense for us to get temporary custody,” Ian said, choosing to leave out the part where he wasn’t sure how much more strain Tami and Lip’s relationship could take. 

While he and Mickey had the added stress of Terry, not much would change in their lives except a title with Franny. As for Liam, he wanted to figure out a way to not have to go through Frank or Fiona when it came to shit like this. He thought back to how Liam needed to find Frank when he was threatened to be kicked out of school and he wanted to avoid instances like that in the future.

They were adults now with only two kids left in the house, this time should be much easier than when Fiona was the only adult or hell, when there were no adults.

“So what’s the issue?” Sandy asked as Ian turned the stove off and let the ground beef cool.

“The issue is that I need to talk to Mickey before I rope him into being someone’s guardian,” Ian said, starting to bring the food to the table. 

Sandy smirked at him and got up to help him bring plates for everyone to eat. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face, maybe you aren’t as self-centered as I always thought,” she said, earning a glare from Ian.

Her smirk widened and he rolled his eyes as he called up the stairs for Carl to come down for dinner. He wasn’t sure if Tami and Lip were eating with them, but he texted them anyway. He made up a plate for Mickey before he made his own up and stuck his husband’s in the fridge. Then he got out Franny’s little dish to put together a small salad for her as Liam helped himself and Carl came into the room.

“What’re you doing here?” Carl asked, surprised at seeing Sandy.

“Came to talk about Debbie,” she said as they sat down for dinner.

Ian tried not to think about how strange it was that Sandy was eating dinner with them, even if she’d been over before, but without Mickey, Ian felt forced to entertain the female Milkovich. 

“What about it? We’re working on trying to get her out, but Lip said her DA thinks it’ll be a year, at least. Franny’s gonna have to get a temporary guardian. Shit’s fucked up,” Carl said digging into the salad. He made a face at the excess of vegetables and gave Ian a look, “Mickey’s a better cook.”

Ian glared at him in response then turned back to Sandy who looked annoyed.

“A fucking year? Seriously? You’re just going to let Debbie rot in jail because of those rich fucks? I take back what I just said,” Sandy snapped.

“It’s not that easy. They’re trying to settle out of court, but the DA isn’t giving us much to go on. He just said that--”

“Who says making them pay is through the legal system? You know the legal system is fucked. There are better ways to make those rich pricks see the error of their ways - more fun too,” Sandy said smirking.

Ian stared at her as he tried to understand what she was insinuating and surprisingly Carl was the one that seemed to catch on first.

“Are you talking about killing Julia and her mother?” Carl asked appalled.

“I never said--”

“Jesus--”

“I just got out of prison, Mickey too. We have Terry to worry about,” Ian interjected before Carl could start in on Sandy.

Sandy shrugged and sat back in her chair, her barely touched taco salad in front of her. 

“I’m just saying, bitches need to pay for fucking with--”

“Hey, did you guys start eating yet?” Lip asked, coming into the kitchen with Tami in tow and Freddy in his arms.

“Got any food left?” Lip asked, sitting down and looking at the food in front of them.

“Yeah, there’s more ground beef on the stove and salad shit is on the table,” Ian said, still looking appalled at Sandy.

“What are we talking about?” Tami asked sitting down.

“Debbie.”

“What about her?” Lip asked.

“Sandy is suggesting alternatives to bring justice for her,” Carl said going back to his salad, “as a cop in training, however--”

“You’re not in training, you’re--”

“Whatever, I’m just saying that I do not condone senseless violence,” Carl said glaring at Sandy.

“Then you better stop trying to be a cop now and change careers,” Lip said, handing Freddy over to Tami so he could make up a plate.

“I’m just saying that someone should be held accountable for what they did to Debbie _and Franny_ who will be without a mother for at least a year,” Sandy said, rolling her eyes.

“In all fairness, Debbie probably shouldn’t have slept with a teenager or fool around with rich people,” Lip said, placing his plate on the table and starting to dig in.

Tami looked at him in annoyance and asked, “where the fuck is my plate?”

“Oh…” Lip looked sheepish as he moved to go make another plate, but Sandy pushed hers toward Tami.

“Take mine, I’m not eating this rabbit food,” she said looking pointedly at Ian.

“Next time I’ll just order pizza when Mickey’s not here,” Ian muttered, annoyed at all the snark he was getting for making everyone something healthy.

“So what’s the plan?” Sandy said, bringing the conversation back to Debbie.

“I’m going this weekend to visit her, taking Franny, you can come too, if you want,” Lip said, glancing over at Ian.

“That’s it? We’re not going to make these rich assholes pay?” Sandy asked.

“What’re our options?” Lip asked.

“She wants to kill her,” Carl said stoically.

Lip shook his head and went back to his plate, “we’re not doing that. I get you’re upset about Debbie, but she’ll get out, eventually. It’s a fucking year, tops. It sucks, but what are we supposed to do?”

Sandy scowled and stood up, “I don’t know what my cousin married into.” And then she left the house with the Gallaghers looking astonished.

“She really wants to kill that Julia girl and her mother cause they accessed Debbie of something she did?” Tami asked in confusion, “Even though she was in the wrong? I mean, she knew she was in high school, right? And really, you shouldn’t ever sleep with a parent and a child, that’s just weird...” 

“She’s just upset,” Ian said understandably. He’d been down that road with Mickey many times and while he didn’t think it was justified to murder someone cause they dared to cross a Milkovich, he did understand where she was coming from.

He got up suddenly and went after Sandy knowing she was going to stew and if she was anything like Mickey. She’d probably do something illegal and he didn’t really want another situation to deal with when everything kept piling up. He was surprised to find her outside on the back porch smoking a cigarette. 

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes, “are you here to tell me off?”

“No, I’m just - I get you’re upset, but we’ll get Debbie out another way. If it really is a year, then we’ll figure it out,” Ian said quietly.

Sandy stared down at the burning ember of her cigarette in contemplation and Ian felt the need to push on.

“You really like her, huh?”

Glancing up at him she smirked slightly, “I guess.”

“Go with Lip tomorrow to see her, it might help,” Ian suggested.

“Did it help when you saw Mickey while he was in prison? What was it, _the one time_ you did?” she snipped at him.

He gave her a sheepish look thinking back to that time and he debated on lying just to make her feel better. “No, I mean, maybe the first few times, but...it was hard. It fucking hurt. Mickey was looking at 15 years and Debbie might get two, if that. It’s different.”

“She’ll have to be a registered sex offender,” Sandy said quietly. “That could ruin her life.”

Ian nodded slowly, “yeah, it could, but it’s better than looking down 15 years of being separated from someone you love.”

“I don’t love her,” Sandy scoffed.

Smirking, Ian said, “I guess…” He paused as he gathered his thoughts, “You know prison still can ruin someone’s life. Neither Mickey nor I can vote, we’re limited in job options, and while we have each other, I don’t - I don’t know how I could’ve done any of this alone. Plus all the psychological and mental health bullshit. I feel lucky that I have him. He’s - he’s...” he trailed off, a strong urge to be around his husband floating to the surface. He felt tempted to check his watch and see how long it was until Mickey came home.

Sandy looked at him for a moment and then nodded once, “you really love him?”

“More than anything.”

She was quiet for a long time as she finished off her cigarette and he debated telling her again to go with Lip tomorrow before he went back inside and joined the rest of his family. 

“Treat him better this time,” she said, tossing her cigarette in the ashtray they had placed outside.

“I know,” Ian said.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t,” she added.

“I know,” he said solemnly.

She smirked at him and then nodded once, “Tell Lip I’ll be here at 8am to come with him to see Debbie.”

Ian couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his face, “I’ll let him know.”

She turned around and left and Ian went back inside to finish his dinner.

* * *

Later that night, Ian found himself sitting at the kitchen table again, but with only Mickey, who was eating the plate he’d made up for him.

Liam was in his own room and Ian had just put Franny down to sleep, knowing she’d probably wake them up at some ungodly hour with a nightmare. Carl had gone out to meet some girl he was talking to and Lip, Tami, and Freddy were back in the trailer.

“Shit, I’m not working late again, can’t trust you to cook a good meal,” Mickey said teasingly.

Ian went to kick him lightly, but Mickey caught his foot between his legs and it turned into a game of footsie under the table.

“How was today?” Ian asked settling his foot between Mickey’s and brought his now-heeled leg to rest against the outside of his husband’s, so their legs were tangled together.

Mickey shrugged, “fine, Larry, uh...he suggested that I work to my full potential.”

“He’s not wrong,” Ian said, giving him a pointed look.

“Whatever, man. How was your day?”

“Sandy came over for dinner. Went grocery shopping...DCFS was here.”

“Sounds like a full day.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s life as a Gallagher.”

Mickey snorted in response as he picked out the pieces of cilantro that Ian had thrown into the salad.

“You don’t like cilantro?” Ian asked, frowning.

“Nope, tastes like soap.”

Ian made a mental note about that and then took a drink from the one beer he allowed himself since he didn’t want to mess with his meds.

“So what happened with DCFS?” Mickey asked.

“Basically, Debs may be in jail for awhile...a year minimum,” Ian started as Mickey made a continue gesture, “and they think someone should be appointed as a temporary guardian of Franny.”

“Lip gonna do it?” Mickey asked looking up at him.

Ian shook his head slowly and Mickey nodded as if he knew what Ian was going to say before he said it.

“It’s gonna be us?” Mickey asked rhetorically.

“If--”

“Look I told you in the beginning, I’m fine taking care of Franny and Liam. They’re family, but I gotta tell you, I don’t want our life to revolve around just having and taking care of kids. I want to spend time with you too, _alone_. I know nothing will change much if we take care of them while this Debbie shit is figured out and until Liam turns 18, but...I want to make sure we have time for us too,” Mickey said quietly.

“What are you saying?” Ian asked not sure if he was following.

“I’m saying that I don’t want to bring any more kids into the mix right now. Let’s just...I want it to be just us until we are a bit more stable and can have kids or adopt strays or whatever we end up doing.”

“You’re saying--”

“I’m saying let’s wait a bit and enjoy the time we have together because we’ve never had time to be together, not like this,” Mickey said impatiently.

Ian smiled softly and reached across the table to squeeze Mickey’s hand. “I think we can do that.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but squeezed his hand back and then picked up his fork with his other hand to continue eating.

“So I’ll talk to Debbie about temporary custody and to Fiona about getting custody of Liam,” Ian said quietly.

“Sure, man, whatever,” Mickey responded, concentrating on his salad, but Ian could see a hint of a smile settle there.

“Okay,” Ian said, “I mean our routine isn’t going to change, we’re already doing everything, we are just putting a label on it.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “you and your labels.”

“Okay, Mick, I’m not the only one who likes hearing the term ‘husband,’” Ian defended and he watched Mickey duck his head as a blush blossomed there.

“Shut it,” Mickey grumbled.

“Listen, I was thinking since tomorrow is Saturday and you’re getting off early we could go out,” Ian said, changing the subject.

“Go out?”

“Yeah, like a date.”

“We’re married, Gallagher, I’m pretty much a sure thing,” Mickey said pushing the empty plate away, but not letting go of Ian’s hand.

“I want to spend some time alone too, away from the chaos,” he said waving his hand around the kitchen.

Mickey smirked, “yeah okay, where you gonna take me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You sure you’ll be up for it after playing Mr. Mom all day?”

“Are you sure you will be after working all day?” 

Mickey laughed and leaned across the table to kiss Ian softly on the lips, “I’m not the one who fell asleep when we were supposed to fuck the other night. You know, I’m going to start getting bitchy if we don’t bang soon, right?”

Ian groaned and pulled back, “you’re not going to fucking drop that, are you?”

“Nope, it’s what having kids does to you.”

“Whatever, just be ready for tomorrow night,” Ian said standing up and bringing the plates to the sink.

“Come on, let’s go watch a movie before you turn into a pumpkin,” Mickey said, moving into the living room and settling on the couch. 

Ian put the plates in the sink and then followed after him. He sat on the couch and wrapped arn arm around Mickey, who scooted in closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. He turned on the TV and went to Netflix to turn on The Terminator knowing neither of them would be paying much attention to it, but wanting something on in the background.

“By the way, they think they caught the guys that shot up the Love Canal,” Mickey said resting his hand on Ian’s knee.

“What?”

“Larry told me, two Ukrainian guys.”

“Do you know them?”

“No.”

“Do you think--”

“I don’t know,” Mickey said wearily.

Ian nodded slowly, “have you seen--”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop asking about it?”

“Yes.” 

There was a long pause as the movie began to play and they both turned their attention to it.

Mickey turned to look at him fully, searching his face earnestly. “What if Terry doesn’t stop?”

“What are you thinking?” Ian asked softly.

“Just...I didn’t have to deal with him for so long and now…” Mickey shrugged and turned back to the TV.

“You’re not in this alone, I’m here.”

“I know, but--”

“We’ll figure this out, Mick. We’ll figure it out without either of us having to go back to prison or get shot or whatever other worse case scenario is going through your head.”

“You don’t know that,” Mickey snipped.

“True, but I do know that we’ve survived much worse and we’ve already dealt with Terry. I also know I won’t let anyone take you away from me, so there’s that and while the law can be shit, it is on our side,” Ian said quietly.

Mickey shrugged and Ian knew he was trying to get out of talking any more about this, but he thought back to all the other times he’d known Mickey was hurting, but just let it go because he wanted to back away from an uncomfortable topic. He wasn’t going to let this drop, not when he wanted to comfort him.

“I love you, Mick, I’m not letting you go, not again.” Ian said softly, tilting his head to look at him.

Mickey tentatively allowed Ian to tilt his head up and when their eyes met, he leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. He felt like he hadn’t kissed his husband all day long, when in reality they had greeted each other with a liplock when Mickey came into the house after his long shift at Old Army.

He threaded his fingers through Mickey’s black hair and pulled him closer as their kiss went from gentle to passionate, like the two teenagers they never got to be, making out on the couch. 

Running his tongue along Mickey’s lips to get him to open himself to him, Ian smiled as his husband caressed his neck in such a gentle fashion. He never understood what Mickey’s fascination with his neck was, but he loved when he ran his calloused fingers along the skin there, feeling the softness all the way down to his toes.

Mickey’s tongue pushed into his mouth and slid against Ian’s, making him shiver at the gesture. Their kisses turned more frenzied as they got lost in one another, both feeling the pressure from spending so much time away from one another and not getting the chance to show how much they loved each other. Ian had to wonder if he’d ever get tired of this feeling - this insatiable love and desire he had for him. 

He’d wondered if he’d lose any of that when they got married, but so far it only seemed to escalate. That shouldn’t have surprised him. The more time he spent around Mickey, the more in love with him he felt, despite not thinking it was possible.

He couldn’t imagine being without him. 

He didn’t _want_ to be without him.

Mickey pulled away suddenly and Ian frowned, already reaching back for him, eager to continue building the fire between them.

“What?” Ian almost whined when Mickey moved out of his reach.

“It’s your turn,” Mickey said pointedly.

Ian frowned, not understanding until he heard the distant cries of Franny having woken up from another nightmare.

“Fuck,” Ian said running a hand over his face and cursing her timing.

“I’ll meet you in our room, I wanna shower anyway,” Mickey said, moving to get off the couch.

Ian reached for him before he could get too far and kissed him softly on the mouth before standing up too. Shutting off the tv, he wrapped an arm around Mickey as the started to move upstairs.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be just us,” Ian said confidently, following his husband.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Firecrotch,” Mickey said, turning to head to the bathroom for his shower.

Ian smirked and slapped him on the ass eliciting a yelp before he went into Franny’s room. He tried to keep in mind that tomorrow they’ll be completely alone, child-free, and maybe finally they’d get to fucking, instead of constantly being interrupted.


	4. As Long As You’re With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian go on their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is reading and commenting and kudoing! You guys are fantastic! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn't feel like the chapter was there yet. It's a long one, so I think it makes up for it. I hope you guys enjoy it. There were a few parts I was hesitant about, but I think it came together nice. It is a bit angsty and there is smut. I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!

_ Whispered something in your ear _

_ It was a perverted thing to say _

_ But I said it anyway _

_ Made you smile and look away _

_ Nothing's gonna hurt you baby _

_ As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine _

_ Nothing's gonna hurt you baby _

_ Nothing's gonna take you from my side _

_ ~”Nothings Gonna Hurt You Baby” by Cigarettes After Sex _

* * *

Sitting on the L on his way home from Old Army, Mickey tried to concentrate on his date with Ian that night instead of the lingering annoyance from dealing with shitheads all day. He reached into his khaki pocket as he prepared to get off the L - he badly needed to smoke a cigarette and planned on lighting up on his way off the platform - when his hands felt the glossy edges of the brochure Larry had given him. As the L jerked to a stop, he got off and began to walk toward the exit, his mind going back to what Larry had said to him yesterday about working to his full potential.

He wouldn’t normally give his PO the time of day, but today had been hard. He didn’t mind the security aspect of working at Old Army, but after standing there and telling off pre-teens for trying and failing to steal or having his manager give him a peppy speech about the importance of bullshit he couldn’t even care enough to maintain to complain about, he just wasn’t feeling it. The pay wasn’t good enough for what he was dealing with and if he was going to make a conscious effort to stay away from illegal activities that could get him torn away from Ian, he was going to have to start thinking long term.

He hated to think that Larry was right, but maybe it would be beneficial to start exploring other options for work.

He wasn’t about to get a college degree or some shit, but there were probably some trade school options he could take advantage of. The problem was he wasn’t sure if apprenticeships paid and he and Ian definitely needed the cash.

As he made his way onto the street, he pulled out the pamphlet with his cigarettes and began to flip through it as he smoked and walked. He figured that having two prison sentences on his record would pretty much eliminate him from getting a good job, but he realized while looking through the brochure, there were jobs out there and a few of them didn’t look so bad.

He read the little blurbs for each of the careers as he walked and only looked up when he was back at the house. He found Ian sitting outside on the front porch with Franny playing in the yard and Liam sitting beside him talking. He was too far to hear what they were discussing, but by Ian’s pensive look, he wasn’t sure if it was good.

“What’s with this white picket scene?” Mickey asked, flicking his cigarette to the cement and crushing it with his shoe heel before coming through the fence.

“You shouldn’t litter. It’s bad for the environment,” Liam stated, giving him a pointed look.

“Yeah, well, smoking is bad for my lungs; what makes you think I give a shit about the  environment?” Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows at him.

Liam sighed heavily, in that way that told him he was going to launch into speech about

how his generation was fucked because of a mentality like that, but before he could start Mickey moved forward to kiss Ian on the lips and pick up Franny who was holding her arms up to him. He settled her on his hip and looked down at Ian who looked tired, but was still smiling sweetly up at him.

“Long day with the tiniest Gallagher?” Mickey teased running his hand over the top of Ian’s head.

He looked up at him and gave him a measured look. “Franny was upset when she came back with Lip and Sandy. I guess she threw a temper tantrum at the prison when it was time to leave. Figured playing outside was probably the best bet. Come on, Carl’s going to watch Franny and Liam and we need to get ready.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Liam said in a tone that made him sound for once like the 10 year old he was.

Mickey exclaimed, “Carl is watching Franny? The fuck?”

“What other option is there? And yes, Liam, maybe you don’t need a babysitter, but Carl is watching you guys anyway,” Ian said, turning to walk back inside.

“I’m 10, not 5! And as a Gallagher, I’ve learned how to stay home by myself for years. Also, it’s  _ Carl _ !  _ I _ should be babysitting  _ him _ ,” Liam exclaimed following after Ian.

Mickey smirked as he looked down at Franny who was playing with his shirt.

“Uncle Mickey,” she began softly and looked up at him with wide blue eyes, “will you play tea party with me? Uncle Carl never plays and Liam says he’s too much of an adult. Uncle Ian played with me earlier, but he couldn’t fit at my tea table and knocked over the cups.”

He smiled softly down at her, happy that they were the only two outside and his husband wasn’t hearing what Franny was asking him. If Ian knew that he’d started to play tea party with Franny - obviously when no one was around, he had a reputation to uphold - he’d never live it down.

“How about tomorrow, kid? I got the day off. Right now, Uncle Ian and I are going out for some adult time. I bet, Liam will play tea party with you, though, if he has the right incentive, how about that?” Mickey said as they began to head inside.

She shrugged carelessly, “fine, I guess.”

She pouted up at him and he knew he was going to have to keep his promise tomorrow. There was no way he was getting out if it when she had that manipulative gleam in her eye and a pout on her lips. He vaguely wondered if he was going to be the parent who always caved when he and Ian had kids, he figured that would only be the case if they had a red head. He smirked at the thought.

As they walked into the house, he set her down and she went over to the couch where Liam was sitting.

“Yo, Liam, play tea party with Franny while we’re out,” Mickey said and fished out a crumpled five knowing the kid wasn’t going to play with her unless bribed. He was usually a good sport, but Mickey knew that at 10 years old the last thing he wanted to do was play tea party with his little niece.

Liam frowned as Mickey handed him the five and then turned to look at the TV, “Don’t gotta bribe me Mickey for doing the right thing.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him and opened his mouth to respond when Ian came back into the living room. 

“Come on, I made the reservations for 7 and it’s already going to take 40 minutes to get there,” Ian whined wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and beginning to pull him upstairs.

He looked back at Liam and Franny on the couch watching TV and tucked away his money, already hating that he was feeling guilty for leaving them. Would it be so bad if they skipped their date and stayed in? But then he reminded himself that this would be  _ their first date ever  _ and even real parents took time to themselves every now and again. Also, wasn’t he the one complaining about them not spending any time together? Shit, Ian’s softness was definitely rubbing off on him, he thought.

Besides, Carl would be around, who while he wasn’t exactly child friendly, he was reliable. Sort’ve.

“Why were you trying to bribe Liam?” Ian asked as they entered their room and maneuvered around each other to start getting ready. 

Mickey was thankful sometimes that they had lived together in a teeny-tiny cell, it helped them learn how to move around the other without getting into the other one’s space.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay in such a small space, thinking of Carl’s larger room, Mickey made a mental note to bring it up. He was tired of living in such a small area when they didn’t have to. They were married now  _ and  _ contributing the most to the household, they should have a larger room. 

“To play with Franny. So you made reservations? How fancy are we talking?” Mickey asked, glancing at the clock to see if he could fit in a shower. He had about five minutes to take one and he figured he’d be stretching it - and risking pissing Ian off for possibly being late since he was such a stickler for being on time - but he felt gross.

“Not super fancy, but it’s in Wicker Park,” Ian said, sifting through the small horizontal pole they were using as their closet.

“Hanging with hipsters tonight?” Mickey snorted and decided to risk Ian’s irritation by pushing it and taking a shower. He’d rather have Ian be pissy with him and smell good than worry about being pungent. Throwing his work clothes in the direction of their hamper, he wrapped a towel around his hips and left the room before Ian could respond. 

Mercifully, the bathroom was empty so he’d succeed in taking a quick shower. 

Once he made his way back to the bedroom feeling much better than he had when he got home, Ian was nowhere in sight and he figured he was already downstairs impatiently waiting on him. 

Grabbing a pair of dark wash jeans and a grey tank top, he grabbed a navy printed short sleeve button down shirt to wear. He wanted to look a little nice for their date night and he wanted to look nice for Ian. Mickey enjoyed seeing that gleam of desire in his husband’s eyes when he knew he looked good. After styling his hair and checking the mirror, he grabbed his wallet and phone then headed downstairs to meet Ian.

He found him looking at his cell in agitation and Mickey glanced at his own phone to see they were running a few minutes behind.

“Calm down, Firecrotch, we’ll get there on time,” Mickey said, trying not to find his need to be on time endearing.

“They have really strict rules about showing up on time,” Ian defended standing up. He smiled down at him as he let his eyes lazily take him in. “You look good,” he leaned in and kissed him and Mickey felt his breath disappear the way it always did when they kissed. He heard Ian’s little moan and he briefly wondered if they could just stay in and bolt the door so no one bothered them instead of going out.

“You gonna suck face in the kitchen all night or are you leaving?” Carl’s voice penetrated  the little bubble kissing Ian always created. 

Mickey pulled away first and glared at his brother in-law who grinned at him as he stood in front of the fridge.

“What are you feeding them?” Mickey asked as Ian buried his head in the croak of his neck. He could hear Ian’s little snuffles and he tried to ignore how the sound went straight to his dick.

“Leftovers,” Carl grumbled and Mickey opened his mouth to tell him to make sure that Franny ate her veggies, but he felt Ian’s arm wrap around his shoulders and begin to lead him out of the door.

“We’ll be back later,” Ian yelled out and they could hear Franny, Liam, and Carl yell ‘bye’ back before the door slammed shut. Ian leaned in and kissed him on the side of his head before he pulled away a little as they entered the world.

“Hmmm you smell good,” Ian said shifting his arm around his shoulders and Mickey shuffled a little closer, even though they were walking down the street now.

He figured he’d cut the PDA short when they got on the L. In their own neighborhood, though, it was fine, at least until Terry reared his ugly head after going to ground once his comrades were caught by the police. 

He knew he should be more concerned about Terry and his desire to kill them, but as long as he stayed alert and ready, he wasn’t sure what else he could do - short of killing him first, of course.

“See aren’t you glad I showered?” Mickey said as they came up to the L platform. He dropped his arm from Ian’s waist and stepped out of his grasp despite still wanting to touch him.

While he had made progress, he wasn’t really in the mood to deal with people staring at them or worse - judging them. He didn’t feel comfortable  _ yet _ being on the L with Ian wrapped around him, even though that’s the only place he really wanted his husband to be.

Even though they’d gotten married in front of over 100 people and Ian had proposed in public, he still felt skittish about advertising their relationship when they were outside of their neighborhood or work. It wasn’t something Mickey liked to advertise and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was a misanthrope or because sometimes he just didn’t want to deal with homophobes. It was probably both honestly. One of those chicken before the edd scenarios.

“You always smell good, Mick,” Ian said softly as they headed up the stairs to get onto the train.

Mickey ducked his head as they headed up to catch the L feeling heat wash over his face. He hated and loved how easily Ian made him feel so bashful with just a compliment. 

They took the train up to Wicker Park and quietly talked about their days. Mickey complained about working at Old Army and Ian told him how Fred wouldn’t stop crying all day until Lip came back to get him. 

Once they made it to Wicker Park, Ian led them toward the restaurant, which was called Amaru. Their arms kept brushing and after one too many times, Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand and entwined their fingers. He watched Ian’s face break out into a beaming grin and he debated with himself if he was feeling daring enough to kiss him. He reminded himself he’d kissed Ian at that stupid bar when he proposed at that fucking shitty concert, but that place was filled with people like them. Would it be okay to make a move while they were in a neighborhood they never went to? It was Wicker Park after all...

Ian’s hand tightened in his as they walked into the restaurant and Mickey glanced up to see him watching him carefully. 

“It’s okay,” Ian muttered and pulled him closer as they headed toward the hostess stand. Ian told the hostess their name and she led them over to a table in the corner of the restaurant.

Amaru looked like every other bar in Chicago - decked out in black and white and silver - but there were candles on the table to add a more romantic vibe to the place. It seemed casual enough, which Mickey was thankful for, and it looked like the perfect place for a first date. It was crowded for a Saturday night and a band was getting ready to go on in the corner. To get to their table, they had to weave in and out of people, both patrons and employees. She grinned at them after placing the menus down and told them their waiter would be with them shortly. 

Mickey went to sit down, but Ian stopped him by pulling his chair out for him and grinned even wider when he rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a dork,” Mickey muttered.

Ian chuckled and sat in his own chair reaching across the table to grasp his hand and Mickey couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest as his husband gazed at him with that mooney-eyed look he’d had on his face since they were 16. The one that had alerted Mickey that Ian had wanted  _ more  _ from him. The one that always made his stomach flip. The one that made Mickey think anything was possible.

“Yeah, well, you bring it on in me,” Ian said.

“That’s not a compliment. In fact, that’s fucking offensive,” Mickey said making a face at him. 

Smirking, Ian began to make a comment when the waiter came over to their table. He went to take his hand away, but Mickey tightened his hold on it, not wanting to let go just cause their waiter came over to take their order. He saw the waiter eyeing their hands, but he didn’t say anything about it,  “I’m Nick and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink?” the waiter asked looking between them politely.

“I’ll have a Budlight,” Mickey said without looking at the menu.

“Me too and a water,” Ian said. 

The waiter wrote down the drink orders and left.

Regretfully, they had to pull apart since it was too difficult to look through the menu and hold hands.

“How’d you find this place?” Mickey asked, beginning to thumb through the menu.

“Read about it, said they had good Latin food.”

They were quiet as they began to browse the options and Mickey found he didn’t really recognize anything, even from when he was living in Mexico. 

“What are you going to get? Do you see anything you’ll like?” Ian asked and Mickey 

looked up to see him nervously watching him.

Mickey smirked, “did you not look at the menu before making the reservation?” 

“It said it was good for date nights. Figured we’d find something,” Ian mumbled in  embarrassment.

“We could share some small plates, try a bit of everything,” Mickey suggested wondering  what exactly focaccia was.

“Probably a good idea,” Ian agreed, “We can both choose something then agree on a third item?”

“Deal.”

They were quiet as they tried to figure out what to order, only talking when the waiter came back over to interrupt them and see if they were ready yet.

“We’re still looking at the fuckin’ menu,” Mickey said brusquely and the waiter looked surprised at him before muttering that he’d come back.

“I’m thinking this chicken dish,” Mickey said and proceeded to say it in Spanish, the foriegn words feeling familiar on his tongue despite the fact he had lived back in the US for over a year now. While he hadn’t picked up a lot of Spanish when he was in Mexico, he remembered how to order and curse and that’s basically all he needed. Some threats here and there were always a necessity too.

“Alright, let’s get the steak one too? Maybe this fish one? Dunno how to say it all fancy like you,” Ian teased.

A long ago memory floated to his mind as he remembered a date they had not gotten a chance to go on. They were supposed to eat steaks at Sizzlers and a weird dip in his stomach occurred from remembering that time. The anger he felt at Ian’s bitch half-sister and the fear at seeing the MPs take his then-boyfriend away. While he didn’t eat steak often - shit was too expensive - Ian and steak were synonymous in his mind, which he thought was fucking weird, but then again most things made him think of his husband.

He found himself suddenly wanting to kiss Ian again, just to remind himself that he was here and safe and everything was (mostly) okay. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned over, careful of the candle, and kissed him on the lips before pulling back. The surprise look on Ian’s face definitely made it worth breaking his PDA rule. It reminded him of their first kiss and he felt a smile blossom over his face, he hoped Ian didn’t mistake it for shyness because it fucking wasn’t.

“Thought you hated PDA,” Ian said, reaching across the table to take his hand again. Mickey felt his smile widen as he looked down at his wedding ring catching the light of the candle on the table. Under the table, he felt Ian’s ankle hook around his and a familiar warmth began to spread through his chest at the simplicity of finally just sitting and being with the man he loved.

“Don’t like to follow the rules, you should know that by now, Gallagher,” Mickey said, trying not to blush at the way Ian was gazing at him.

He squeezed his hand and then cleared his throat, wanting to run something past him since he’d looked at that brochure earlier.

“I think I want to try to get a new job,” Mickey blurted out.

Ian’s soft expression seemed to melt before his eyes and Mickey wondered why something so simple was causing his husband to look like he’d just told him he wanted to move to the ‘burbs raise five kids and get a dog.

“What are you thinking?”

“Something with my hands. Carpenter, plumber, electrician, shit like that. They make decent money and even though I have to put in some time I think--”

“I think that sounds great, Mick,” Ian said beaming at him.

“Really? You don’t think that’ it’s too, like, fucking weird or stupid?” Mickey asked, chewing on his lower lip. He brought his other hand up to begin thumbing the area above his lip feeling nervous about what Ian might say.

“Why would I think it would be weird or stupid? You’re thinking of doing something better with your life, I think that’s good,” Ian said as the waiter came back over to ask again if they were ready to order.

Ian ordered while Mickey watched the waiter like a hawk, waiting for him to say or do something because they were holding hands, but instead, he took their order and left. So far, he had been by twice and had said nothing of them holding hands. 

Taking a drink of his almost forgotten beer, Mickey began to feel a little more at ease.

Ian said, “what do you need to do to become a plumber or carpenter? Do you need your  GED?”

“I got my GED and I’m going to talk to Larry about it when I see him Friday. Probably an apprenticeship or some shit, take some classes. The thing is I don’t know if any of it is paid and obviously we need the money...” Mickey said casually.

Ian stared at him in surprise, “we can figure - wait, you got your GED? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Yeah, first time I was in the can. Figured what the fuck else am I doing and it got me out of going to see the therapist since she was here only on Tuesdays and Thursdays and that’s when the GED classes were.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Ian said slowly.

Mickey looked away from him and took a sip of his beer, not sure what to say to that. When Ian continued to look pensive he said, “it’s no big deal, man, I wasn’t going to do it, but they mentioned it might help for early release. Said it showed I was making progress or whatever.”

“What else did you do while in prison?” Ian asked.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him and moved his hand to scratch his eyebrow with his thumb.

“Didn’t we have this conversation while  _ we _ were in prison?” he asked pointedly.

“Yeah, once, when we were both falling asleep after fucking,” Ian said, irritation creeping into his tone.

Mickey sighed, “Ian--”

“Here we are,” the waiter said, coming over to their table with their food. He placed the three plates in front of them, brought a few extra plates to divide the food up and then asked if they needed anything else.

Mickey thanked his lucky stars as they began to eat and the conversation was dropped.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have the conversation about what he did when he wasn’t with Ian, but it also brought up a pretty dark time in his life. He felt as if he’d been forgotten about and then left behind both times by Ian. Now, it didn’t matter as much to him because they were happy and married and moving forward they were going to have a nice life together, but during those three years without Ian, Mickey only focused on the shadows instead of the light at the end of the tunnel. How could he not when any hope he had left of being with him had been left at the border.

Mickey sometimes wondered if they hadn’t gotten their happily ever after ending (he had to stop watching Disney Plus with Franny) if he’d have any resentment toward him. The problem was he couldn’t resent Ian when the guy had saved him from a life of fuck all. If he and Ian had never gotten together, he’d probably be dead or serving life in prison. 

Ian may not think that he was worth being with, but Mickey felt as if he hung the moon and the stars. How could he not? If Ian hadn’t come looking for the stolen gun that day, he’d never have explored his own sexuality. He’d never have been brave enough to stand up to his father. And while a lot of shit went sideways and he was angry at Ian for forcing him to come out or for trying to get him to run off when he was supposed to marry Svet despite the dangers, he also attributed Ian to giving him the strength and courage he felt like he lacked due to having literally no one on his side his entire life. Ian was the first person who ever believed in him and that wasn’t something Mickey could ignore. 

Ian had called him a coward once and while Mickey didn’t think he was cowardly in most things, he was when it came to being  _ who _ he was, at least back then. 

So while Mickey knew Ian wanted to know  _ every single thing that happened while they were apart,  _ Mickey wasn’t too inclined to let him in. He sure as fuck didn’t want to hear about how Ian banged his way through firemen and shit. All he wanted to know was whether Ian loved him more, wanted to be with him more, and if he was a better fuck. The rest of the shit was just...background noise.

They’d tried to hash out their issues while in prison, but they were also too busy fucking and laughing to focus on anything that could help them move past their past. He knew on some level they should probably talk about their past issues with each other, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the first real date with his husband.

* * *

As they headed back on the L, Ian said, “I was thinking, we should switch rooms with

Carl. It’s bigger and while we’ve lived together in close quarters before--”

“I was going to bring that up too,” Mickey said, smirking at him. He’d never get over how  insync they were, on most things at least, he thought smugly.

“Good. We can talk to him about it tomorrow.” 

“Gotta take down all those stupid ass--”

“Ian! Holy shit, is that you? Or wait, is it Curtis still?” 

Mickey felt himself freeze as an unrecognizable voice called for his husband. He looked  over at Ian who was looking around for the voice as well. All the elation and relaxation melted from his husband’s face and was replaced with a polite, fake-ass smile when a tall, bald, light skinned man came over. He had a few guys with him and they seemed to walk over in a clump of people, crowding Ian and Mickey in on the L. It didn’t matter much anyway, since even more people got on with them and filled every inch of the car, but still, Mickey was pissed that they were trapped.

He immediately felt himself go on the defensive as these men swirled around them and through the haze of discomfort, he felt Ian squeeze his thigh and let his hand linger there as if to remind him he wasn’t alone and it was okay. He was just glad he was sitting on the aisle seat as a shield between these strange men and his husband.

“Shit, dude, I haven’t seen you since - you tried to get your job back, right? That was a few years back,” the guy said staring at Ian.

“Hey, Jay, it’s - it’s good to see you,” Ian said dodging the question. 

Mickey felt Ian shift next to him and he looked over at him to see that strained smile still on his lips, but what he focused on were his eyes. They kept darting around uncomfortably and the hand on Mickey’s thigh tightened until his fingertips were digging into the denim. Mickey wanted to bark at these men to go away, but the guy, Jay or whatever started to talk and there was nowhere for them to go. It was 10 on a Saturday night in Chicago, of course the L was full.

“And I remember you! Can’t believe you guys are still dating! We all had bets on when you’d break up, honestly, especially after you beat the shit out of Kyle. But honestly, he was a dick anyway,” the guy said, turning to look at Mickey and pointing a finger at him, “we all used to talk about how you hung around waiting for Ian. Fucking romantic, man, we all wanted to know what Ian had that we didn’t. Shit, wish I could find someone who did half the shit you did for this guy.”

Mickey wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed that he was someone the guy remembered because he was always waiting on Ian’s maniac ass or annoyed about it. But then he reminded himself that he didn’t give a fuck what this guy thought, obviously the way he was looking at them was more in awe than mocking. And he had mentioned that he was romantic, which in any other setting probably would’ve pissed him off, but Ian’s grip seemed to just tighten at that, as if he thought Mickey was going to get up and leave.

“Who won the bet?” Mickey asked.

“Fuck knows. Still work there, though. Got a new boss, fucking sucks, but pays still decent. Saving up to go to law school,” the guy said shrugging. He glanced behind at the ground of guys who were crammed in behind him. “We’re all going out for a drink, if you guys wanna come?”

“Thanks, Jay, but we’re actually headed home,” Ian said curtly.

“Home? I remember when your ass was still partying at noon. You get old since quitting the Fairytale?” Jay laughed and Mickey gritted his teeth at the sound. 

“Haha, yeah, we’ve just had a long week,” Ian said tightening his hand on Mickey’s leg until it was painful.

He looked over at Ian as he shifted ever closer to him. He wasn’t feeling uncomfortable anymore, but  _ Ian  _ was the one feeling anxious now. He realized that Ian wasn’t afraid that he’d get up and leave, he was trying to remind himself that he was here. He moved his hand to rest over his, feeling the hardness of his husband’s wedding ring underneath his palm. A grateful smile appeared on his face and Mickey nodded subtly in return.

“Cool, cool, well hit me up sometime. We can hang out, like we used to,” Jay said as they went to get off the train. He stopped for a second and turned back and Mickey felt a lump of dread at whatever this man was going to say.

“I heard you were in prison for arson, something about being an icon for gays or some shit, that true?” Jay asked, but before Ian could answer, his friends called to him and he took off.

Ian seemed to slump against Mickey once Jay was out of sight and Mickey’s fingers tightened over Ian’s hand, the FUCK across his knuckles staring up at him.

“Guess this is what we get for venturing out of our hood,” Mickey grumbled and Ian laughed darkly.

“Fuck, haven’t seen him in a good three years,” Ian responded leaning his cheek against Mickey’s shoulder.

“I’d be pretty fucking set if we never ran into any of your old sparkly coworkers again,” Mickey muttered.

“You and me both.” 

They fell into silence as they journeyed through Chicago, but Mickey couldn’t shake what the Jay guy had said. While he’d romanticized that time a lot in his head, how could he not when things (while a rollercoaster ride) were also the best they’d had, until now. But he didn’t exactly like to be reminded about it, especially now that things were so much better. He had savored that time because he thought those were the only good memories they’d ever have together, but now here they were married, on a normal date, headed back home to a calm (as calm as the Gallagher house could get) house where they’d get a chance to finally fuck for the first time in a week until their hearts content. It just gave him a different perspective on that summer before Ian was diagnosed and he thought he’d be fine. It wasn’t bad, not like when he was in prison or Mexico and missed Ian like a fat kid on a diet misses chocolate cake, but there were some dark parts. The cheating, watching Ian strip for money, the shit with Svetlana and Yevgeny, not to mention Ian bouncing off the walls...

Now was the real memorable time between them and all those years ago were just...Mickey didn’t even fucking know. It was a strange time and while he loved parts of that summer and the winter that followed, he’d never forget finally understanding Ian’s mania or the first depressive episode he had. Hell, fighting with Svet about whether Ian stayed or left wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

But he loved the quiet nights with Ian, the wrestling in bed, the way he looked holding Yev. Those were the memories he loved. That was what he romanticized. 

“I’m sorry,” Ian blurted out as they stood up to hop off the train and back to the house.

“For what? That guy?” Mickey asked as the doors opened.

“No, for the cheating and - and all the shit you had to deal with at the Fairytale. It was fucked up. Sometimes...I don’t know what I was thinking, stripping and - and the other shit,” Ian said quietly. 

Mickey felt his stomach drop down to his toes and then bounce back up as his mind cast back to a memory he’d wanted to forget when he’d walked into the Fairytale and couldn’t find Ian. Instead, he found the guy - Kyle as he’d learned tonight - and beat the shit out of him when he’d made advances toward him because he was so angry at the redhead. 

“You came out for me and - and you took care of me...and I treated you like - like shit,” Ian said as they stood on the platform.

Ian was focusing on the crowd of people moving toward the exit, jostling them around and Mickey wondered why he was bringing this up now, in by far the worst place imaginable.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Mickey said because he wasn’t sure what else to say to that. He couldn’t say ‘it’s fine’ because it’s not and he couldn’t say ‘okay’ because again, it wasn’t. What were his options other than accepting it and moving on? They’d had this conversation while in prison, albeit a short version of it, but it didn’t solve anything then and wouldn’t now. Other than fucking pissing him off when all he wanted was to fuck.

“We’re not going to talk about it?” Ian asked as Mickey turned away and began to walk with the crowd of people toward the exit.

“Can we just go home and fuck and then talk about it? We were having a fucking romantic date night or whatever and now you want to start rehashing the past on the fucking L platform of all places. If we have to have this conversation, let’s not do it where we can be the evening entertainment for the neighborhood,” Mickey snapped continuing to walk away from the people who were beginning to watch them.

Ian hurried to catch up to him and Mickey refused to talk to him until they were on their street and mercifully alone, then he turned and punched him hard in the shoulder.

“The fuck?” Ian exclaimed, rubbing the newly injured area.

“Why the fuck you gotta bring all that past shit up for? I was having a good time tonight,” Mickey snarled pushing him against the fence around their house.

Ian stumbled and looked at him aghast, “cause we’ve talked about it  _ one time _ , while in pris--”

“I fucking know, you don’t gotta remind me!” Mickey snapped and then took a deep breath to try and calm down, “And that’s all we should’ve talked about it. Why do I want to hear about how you fucking other guys while you were maniac and I thought we were happy? Why do you think I want to fucking hear that? I told you that it fucking - it fucking  _ sucked _ finding out about the porno and the cheating. Finding you working as a stripper wasn’t exactly a tea party either, but it’s been five years, so what the fuck am I supposed to do about it now? Especially cause you were sick at the time.”

“We were happy! I was just...I can’t even tell you half of what I did while I was manic cause I don’t even know. I fucked up. I knew what I was doing was fucked up and I felt guilty all of the time for it...but I don’t know, I couldn’t stop. And I brought it up because I wanted to apologize! Come clean, so we can know everything about each other, like we used to! I was sick, yeah, but--”

“But what? If you’re about to try to justify that shitty time or whatever, then I’m divorcing your ass now because if you ever fucking cheat on me again I will kill you and dump your body in the lake or I’ll leave you, whatever the fuck I choose to do will have nothing to do with you,” Mickey said pushing open the gate and moving to go inside, but then stopping knowing that if they took this fight inside they’d wake up Liam or Franny and then they’d never get to the part of the night that he was looking forward to the most.

Sure the dinner and the footsie under the table and even the cuddling on the train were nice, but he just really needed a dick up his ass or he was going to go mental.

“And fuck you for brining that up right before we’re going to go home and bang because now I barely even want to look at you,” Mickey snapped turning around and pushing Ian again for good measure. 

He stumbled back and then sighed, his face morphing into resembling a kicked puppy. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Well, you fucking did,” he yelled.

It was quiet as they both stood on the porch, Ian staring at Mickey and Mickey looking anywhere but at Ian, both of them breathing heavily as the reeled from their argument.

“Do you want to continue talking about it?” Ian asked quietly.

“Not really,” Mickey said angrily.

“I just want to be honest with you.”

“I just - you fucking hurt me and I really don’t want to talk about that time or what I was doing in Mexico of fuck, even prison. Can’t we just go forward and enjoy where we ended up? After all the fucking bullshit, we’re finally here and married,” Mickey exclaimed. 

He finally raised his eyes to look at Ian, who was watching him carefully. He’d edged closer to him as if waiting for Mickey to lash out again, but when he didn’t he muttered, “Wanna go inside now?” 

Mickey let out a low annoyed sound as he debated the question. On the one hand, the thought of Ian touching him after being reminded of that day so many years ago when he found out about the porno made him feel sick; on the other hand, he needed what only Ian could give him. He needed to feel some fucking reassurance. He needed to feel--

Instead of answering, Mickey grabbed Ian by his shirt collar and brought him to him, kissing him hard on the mouth. He needed this. Ian, against him, reminding him that they were good, they were together, they were  _ married _ . All that shit was in the past.

Ian kissed him back vigorously and they fell into the front door as Mickey’s body was pressed against him. He pushed his tongue roughly into Ian’s mouth and heard himself groan as he felt teeth graze against his bottom lip. 

In the distance, he heard the sound of a door opening and suddenly, he was moving backwards and into the house. He stumbled, but Ian’s arms kept him close to him, kept him from falling. Ian’s hands seemed to be everywhere and Mickey copied his actions, trying to bring him impossibly closer. Breaking away to take a breath, Mickey leaned his neck to the side to allow Ian access to his neck as he began to nip and suck his way down the skin.

“Fuck, right there,” Mickey groaned as Ian’s lips found that spot right under his ear that  made him shiver down to his toes. He ran his hands through Ian’s hair, taking in a fist full and yanking it to get his attention. They had stalled out in the entryway and he needed to get him moving so they could make it to their bed.

They had fucked far too many times in inconvenient places and right now he wanted his husband in their bed, not on the kitchen floor or the living room couch or even against the wall. At least, not right now. 

Now when they needed the reprieve from past mistakes that were trying to haunt their present.

“Move,” Mickey grunted as Ian made no attempt to stop sucking and licking the skin beneath his ear.

He shuffled backwards, running into the couch and finally Ian looked up at him, his eyes glassy and blown as lust showed clearly on his face.

“Upstairs, now,” Mickey said in that same urgent tone. He tugged at his hair again to try to wade through Ian’s lust, but instead, his eyes darkened and his husband’s hands moved south to roughly knead his ass through his jeans. The action caused lust to ripple through Mickey’s body and he moved forward for another all consuming kiss. Ian leaned in to him, sucking Mickey’s bottom lip into his mouth. The action made the shorter man’s heart race the way it always did when Ian kissed him thoroughly. He moved one of his hands from Ian’s hair and down his neck, feeling the soft skin there before dropping his fingers to the bottom of his shirt to feel his pale abs.

“Can’t,” Ian mumbled against his lips, moving in for another hard kiss. Mickey shoved him backwards a little and rested his forehead against Ian’s as they struggled to catch their breath.

“Go, now,” Mickey rasped, moving away from him and starting to go up the stairs, but Ian’s hand caught the hem of his shirt and pulled him against his chest. He nuzzled his head in between the back of his shoulders and his neck and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Ian--” Mickey began to chastise him for stopping him from going upstairs, but then Ian’s hand slid from his waist to the edge of his jeans before unbuttoning the top button and slipping a hand in. He fumbled with the top of his boxers and then his large hand dipped in, palming his rapidly hardening dick.

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, trying to keep it down so they wouldn’t wake anyone up.

Ian’s other arm wrapped tighter around him, holding him as close as possible and his  head buried itself against the lower part of his neck.

“Fucking smell so good,” Ian muttered nipping his eat lob and causing Mickey to let out a funny little yelp. “Love you, Mick,” Ian added as he pumped his dick. 

Mickey closed his eyes as his husband wrapped himself around him. This is what he needed, he thought dully through the haze of desire.

“Bedroom,” Mickey grunted trying to take another step, but Ian held him firmly against him.

“Fuckin’ Love you, love you so much, Mick,” Ian mumbled kissing his neck and Mickey  sighed at the words. 

He knew he should respond, but he just needed to hear Ian say it. He loved hearing him say it; he needed to know that Ian was completely his. 

Mickey tried to move to go further up the stairs, but Ian held him tightly to him, his hand curled around his hip and the other moving languidly up and down his cock as the blood rushed to it. He let his head fall back against Ian’s shoulder exposing his neck further to him as his lips planted kisses there, they were more gentler the more time they stood on the stairs, contrasting the rough start to their intimacy.

“Bedroom,” Mickey said again, a little louder this time to get Ian’s attention. When Ian still didn’t move, he reached around and grabbed a fist full of his ass, causing Ian to squawk in surprise.

“Bedroom,” he repeated, stepping out of his grasp and moving up the stairs. Ian followed after him, his hand still firmly down his pants and his arm still around his waist. Mickey would’ve laughed at how oddly they must’ve looked, walking half attached and off kilter as they got to the landing and then shuffled down the hallway, but he was too focused on getting to their room. 

As they came to their bedroom, Mickey pushed the door open and stumbled inside as Ian quickly closed it and then took his shirt off. Mickey turned around to face him and began to take his own clothes off hurriedly, needing to feel Ian’s skin against his own. 

“C’mere,” Mickey muttered sliding back on the mattress and gesturing for Ian to follow  him.

Ian didn’t need to be told twice as his pale naked body crawled across the mattress and stopped right in front of Micke. Opening his legs to accommodate him, Mickey leaned back against the unmade bed and pulled Ian on top of him, allowing a sigh of relief to escape as his heaviness reminded him that he was there, with him.

Kissing him fervently on the mouth, Mickey’s hands ghosted along his husband’s abs until they reached their destination. He began to play with Ian’s balls, rolling them in one hand as his other began to stroke him.

“Fuck, I love when you do that,” Ian muttered, his head burrowing into the area where his neck met his shoulder. Mickey could feel him sucking the skin there and he knew he should tell him to stop so he didn’t leave a mark, but he couldn’t bare to, not when it felt so good. Ian grinded into his hands and Mickey gasped when their cocks brushed against one another.

“Now, fuck, Gallagher, get in me now,” Mickey exclaimed, too lost in their passion to fully comprehend the whine in his tone.

Ian laughed and moved away enough just to get the lube that was on their bedside table. When he didn’t come back immediately, Mickey glanced over to see what Ian was doing and saw him staring at their wedding picture that rested there. He turned back to Mickey with wide, red rimmed eyes and instead of asking him what was going on, the brunette grabbed the nape of his neck and brought his mouth to his.

He needed to touch him, feel him, comfort him. There weren’t any words that Mickey could say to Ian that were strong enough to convey to him how much he loved him, but he knew he could show him. He could always show him when their bodies met.

Pulling away slightly to rub lube onto his fingers, Ian moved his hand down to begin prepping Mickey, both of their cocks already standing to attention.

Ian slowly began to inch one finger inside of him and then a second one, only stopping when he let out a hiss of surprise and pain at how long it had been since they had done this.

Mickey’s eyes drifted closed as Ian began to set a rhythm. The sharp pain quickly turned to pleasure as Ian’s fingers curled inside of him and he began to ride his fingers. Insatiable with need, he opened his eyes up when Ian slowed down and looked up at his husband who was gazing down at him with such adoration and love, that he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“What?” Mickey snipped when Ian removed his fingers for him and didn’t do anything else.

“I just - nevermind,” Ian said grabbing the lube and squirting some on his dick. Mickey watched carefully as he got into position, Ian’s thighs against his own. Neither of them spoke as they stared at each other and Ian slowly inched his way into him, filling him up until he was complete. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s waist, holding him still for a moment, allowing them both to adjust to the sensation. 

Beginning to move in and out, hitting him just the way he liked, Mickey’s hand went searching for Ian’s, which had fisted near his head on the mattress. He uncurled Ian’s fingers and locked their hands together as Ian slid in and out of him. He could feel the hardness of Ian’s ring against his fingers and the sensation made his chest constrict in a strangely pleasant manner. 

Generally, he’d close his eyes and focus on the pleasure rippling through his body, but Mickey needed to watch Ian and judging by the intense and focused look in his husband’s eyes, he needed the same.

“Fuckin love the way you feel around me,” Ian rasped out, leaning down and kissing him on the left side of his chest, right on the G of Mickey’s ‘Ian Galager’ tattoo. He stayed there, his lips pressed to the tattoo and Mickey felt like he was on fire from the simple gesture. He might be surrounding Ian, but with his husband filling him up, their hands clasped, and his movements slowing down and turning deeper, he felt as if Ian was the one surrounding him. 

He wanted Ian to speed up, go back to the rough manhandling they were used to, that was familiar and he expected it. This was making him feel too overwhelmed, too out of control, too much like his heart was going to explode from sensory overload. 

“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey gasped as he moved out and then slowly filled him up again, hitting him just right, exactly where he knew his toes curled and back arched. His eyes fell shut and he wrapped his arm around Ian’s waist to keep him right where he wanted him. He could feel his orgasm building every time Ian hit his prostate, he was going to come any minute.

“So close, so close, fuck,” Mickey muttered and Ian looked up at him from where he’d been kissing his chest and then kissed him hard on the mouth. Mickey was surprised to taste salt on his lips and right as he was going to tell him that he was about to come, he felt Ian’s hips stutter out and he was groaning into his mouth. He pushed in deep once more and Mickey felt him come, enacting his own orgasm. He rode out the waves of pleasure, grinding down on Ian’s still hard cock until the last of his shocks from his orgasm subsided. 

The room was filled with heavy breathing and Ian had collapsed on top of him, causing Mickey to be pinned to the bed. Kissing his shoulder, the side of his neck, and his lips, Ian finally moved to roll off, but Mickey’s legs wrapped tighter around him, needing him there for a few minutes longer.

“Stay,” Mickey muttered, kissing any part of him he could reach; his ear, his temple, his nose, his neck.

Ian burrowed his head in his favorite spot on his neck and squeezed his hand, which were still linked. 

Slowly, their breathing returned to normal and Mickey decided to break the silence. “What were you going to say earlier?” Mickey asked, tapping Ian’s back to get his attention in case he fell asleep.

He groaned in response and lifted his head slightly, but not enough to look him in the eye. Mickey noticed the tear tracks anyway glistening on his cheeks.“I just...I love you a lot. Being married to you...as fucking stupid as it sounds, it feels like a dream sometimes.”

Mickey smirked, “that’s what made you cry, huh?”

Ian shifted on top of him and much to Mickey’s chagrin he rolled off and this time Mickey let him. Collapsing on either side of their bed, they lay beside one another, both staring at the ceiling.

“You noticed that huh?” Ian muttered and Mickey glanced over at him to see he was watching him carefully.

“Kinda hard not to,” Mickey muttered already itching for an after sex cigarette.

As if reading his mind, Ian grabbed the pack of cigarettes discarded on the bedside table and light one up, passing it to Mickey.

“I feel guilty,” Ian stated, breaking the smokey silence.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and flipped onto his stomach so he could see Ian better. “The fuck for?”

Ian sighed and brought a hand up to his eyes, they were shiny and Mickey wondered if he was going to start crying again. He ached to comfort him, but something held him back as if Ian needed to reveal something important first. 

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had cried during sex, but it was still strange to see and while Mickey always tried to hide it, Ian just shrugged it off and blamed it on how much he loved him.

“The fucking cheating, the fucking--”

“Ian, come on, I--”

“No, I want to get this out.”

Mickey made a gesture to go on and then passed him the cigarette. He was quiet as he took a puff and they watched the smoke move higher and higher.

Finally Ian spoke, “I cheated on you and while I was fucked up and maniac and shit, it was wrong. More than that, I fucking left you alone. I left you at the border and in prison. I fucking, God, I fucked so much shit up. And you still want to be with me.”

Mickey reached over and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, doing his best to look at him, but also feeling uncomfortable at the intensity in his gaze.

“I love you, Ian Gallagher. I do, but we’ve had this fucking conversation. Sure, you did some fucked up shit, but I don’t want you to feel guilty about it. What the fuck’s that going to do?” Mickey said concentrating on the burning ember of the cigarette.

“Yeah, but you forgive me too easily,” Ian blurted out.

“And I get angry too easily too, lash out and shit. Shouldn’t have punched you and broken your leg or go off with Berry. I got shit I feel guilty for too. Don’t make this just about you,” Mickey snipped.

“I’m not, I just don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Ian said reaching forward and cupping Mickey’s face.

He moved his head to kiss his palm and then gave him a sardonic smile. “Let’s fucking don’t then. At least not intentionally,”

“I didn’t cheat on you intentionally,” Ian said darkly.

“You know what I mean,” Mickey said, moving to get out of bed and clean himself off. There was a towel around here somewhere…

“Can we just both agree that we did some fucked up shit? We didn’t mean to hurt each other and we love each other? And move the fuck on? I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Mickey added spotting the towel and began to wipe the cum and lube off his body. He tossed the towel to Ian, who was watching him, he caught it easily and began to clean himself off.

“Yeah, I can agree to that,” he said softly.

“Good, cause if you ever cheat on me again I’ll chop your dick off,” Mickey said smirking at him.

Ian smiled sadly, “You don’t have to threaten me about cheating on you. That’s not going to happen. Love you too much.”

Mickey snorted and stubbed out the cigarette on their makeshift ashtray. “Is that enough fucking soft shit for the evening? Can we go to bed? Or do you want to braid each other’s hair and sing love songs to each other?”

“I was thinking of singing you some Tina Turner, but if you’re too tired…” Ian teased and Mickey scoffed at him.

“You’re a dick,” he grumbled, climbing back into bed on his side and Ian wrapped himself around him, cuddling into him like he always did. The light from the street lamps streamed into their room and even though he was exhausted and sated from the day, it took Mickey awhile to fall asleep, his mind full of their conversation and all the other things they didn’t say, but let their body speak for them.


	5. I Want To Hold You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian deals with having to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much to everyone who is reading this story! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. And thank you to those who have been kind enough to leave a comment or a kudo! I really appreciate them! I love the feedback, it's been such a treat to read what you guys think and what parts you've enjoyed. I hope you guys like the next chapter! 
> 
> For those of you who aren't aware. I've changed my updating days to Sun for this story and Thurs for my other story. I just wanted to let you know! I'm taking a higher education course to change careers so I'm getting busy again I guess. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think!

_ Give me love like never before _

_ 'Cause lately I've been craving more _

_ And it's been a while but I still feel the same _

_ Maybe I should let you go _

_ You know I'll fight my corner _

_ And that tonight I'll call ya _

_ After my blood is drowning in alcohol _

_ No I just wanna hold ya _

_ Give a little time to me or burn this out _

_ We'll play hide and seek to turn this around _

_ All I want is the taste that your lips allow _

_ My, my, my, my, oh give me love _

_ ~”Give Me Love” By Ed Sheeran  _

* * *

In the weeks that followed since their date, Ian felt like things were falling into place.

_ Fucking finally, it only took 10 years. _

It was a strange realization to have when they’d lived so long on the edge of shit blowing up in their faces. 

Ian had been a little afraid that he or Mickey would grow bored of the quiet, however, they seemed to have fallen into what some couples may consider to be normal. 

It was getting easier to take care of all of the little things Fiona had spent years doing. He’d pick up Liam from school and Mickey would make dinner. Carl helped out with watching Franny and Lip was finally moved out of the trailer and into the apartment down the street. 

A few times a week Lip, Tami, and Fred would come have dinner with them. Franny was even getting more used to being without Debbie, which was a little disconcerting to Ian. He remembered being young and missing his mother when she’d disappear for weeks on end and he didn’t want that for Franny.

He didn’t want his niece to grow up without a mom, even if he thought Mickey and him were pretty damn good substitutes. 

Especially Mickey, who had really stepped up with making meals, playing with her, and even helping to enroll her in daycare. Ian was already proud of who Mickey was, but watching him with Franny and Liam just made him even more sure that when the time came, they’d be really good parents. Despite their own parentage, he knew whatever was thrown at them next would just be another obstacle in their journey together.

He’d gotten Fiona onboard to help him and Mickey get temporary custody of Liam. It helped that Fiona had written a letter, he and Mickey were married, and Frank had even given his consent (if Ian had plied him with beer and pot to sign the papers, no one needed to know). Getting temporary custody of Franny was much easier since Debbie just had to sign some paperwork and they had to stop at social services to bring it to them. Also, Ian knew they couldn’t have completed all of that paperwork without the help of their POs who had been helpful to say the least. 

Some days Ian was almost glad Paula had been murdered if this was the way his life ended up - he knew that was bad karma, but he wasn’t a saint.

Being the heads of the Gallagher household was becoming more manageable now that they’d gotten the big things in order. 

So of course Ian had to start getting anxious that the other shoe was going to drop. No amount of happiness or wishful thinking in the world would make him think they wouldn’t have some shit show thrown at them soon. That’s just how life worked. When they got one thing figured out another was thrown at them. 

After all, that’s what generally happens, right? They start to see the light at the end of the tunnel and then something fucked it all up. 

Ian was waiting for  _ that _ explosion. 

But it wasn’t exactly an explosion when it did happen. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t really that bad. It just presented him with a choice of whether he’d finally let go of the admittedly selfish decisions he’d made in the past. 

“So Mr. Gallagher, tell me how are you feeling working at Patsy’s?” his PO asked him. She gave him a seering look over the top of the file she was holding in her hand. “You’ve worked there before I know and your sister--”

“It’s fine, but I was thinking of trying to get my old EMT job back,” Ian said quickly.

She raised her eyebrows at him and placed his file down on her desk. “We’ve been over this haven’t we, Ian?”

He nodded slowly, “yeah, but I’d like to make more money. We just put my niece in daycare and--”

“And you think getting your old EMT job back will help pay the bills,” she guessed.

“Yeah.”

She nodded taking that in, “and your husband, what does he do?”

Ian felt a bubble of pride begin to swell in his chest as he thought about Mickey and his own career path. He’d talked to Larry again and was planning on enrolling in vocational school once he could get down there between his shifts at the mall. He’d have to continue working there for awhile as a part time employee, but Ian knew it would all be worth it. He knew it was a pretty major commitment on both of their parts (Ian for continuously working to keep them afloat and Mickey for actually putting in the work), but plumbers made good money and more importantly, they weren’t illegal. 

“He’s going to trade school, well, he hasn’t enrolled yet, but that’s the plan. He’s still working at the mall though. We just, we want to make more money,” he said quietly.

She gave him a sad smile, “Listen, Ian, I understand that you want to go back to being an EMT. Your coworkers spoke very highly of you. However, you are an ex-con and most places will need more time between your stint and hiring you. Also, here are no guarantees you’ll get your old job back, you may or you may not. Either way, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon. Tell me, what else do you like? You were an activist, you obviously enjoy helping people.”

“Yeah, I do. When I was with Paula though I--”

“Paula was a sorry excuse of a PO, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead…” she cleared her throat, “that insurance scam she was running wasn’t what you wanted to do, right? You want to help people.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Listen, Ian, I think you’d be a great counselor. You could help with substance abuse or mental health, maybe even sexual trauma. You’re compassionate, smart, driven--”

“But I want to go back to being an EMT,” Ian cut her off feeling frustrated that he’d spent so long studying to be an EMT and was now being told that he’d have to switch careers. 

He knew he had fucked himself over career wise when he went to prison, but he’d figured if he could explain his case maybe he’d get another chance. He loved being an EMT and while he wouldn’t mind being a counselor, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his desired career path. Not after what had happened with the army, which still made him sick when he thought about it.

She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair, “try to get your old EMT job back, see what happens. I’m telling you, Ian, you could work with teens. All you need to do is get a counseling degree--”

“But Mickey wants to go to trade school. We can’t have both of us going to school,” Ian argued.

His PO nodded as she took that in. “Well your other option is to continue doing menial jobs. There’s an opening as a receptionist at a non-profit if you want to take that. Pay’s okay, $14 an hour and you’ll be home by 6pm. Weekends you get off,” she said pushing over a piece of paper with more about the job description.

He stared at it as he considered his options. “So basically my options are to wait out my year until I can try to go back to being an EMT - no guarantee - or I can pick a different career.” 

She nodded, “you got it.”

He stared down at the piece of paper and then back up at her, “you’d suggest I’d change careers.”

Again, she nodded, “I’ve seen some miracles in this job, I’ll tell you that, but more often than not, I’ve seen a lot of recidivism because things don’t work out for my parolees. I’m telling you, Ian, there are other good jobs out there where you can help people. This non-profit is an excellent example. They help teens with mental health issues. If you got a degree, you could really make a difference and more money.” 

“I’ll take the receptionist job. I’ll think about the other stuff,” Ian said quietly, picking up the piece of paper.

She nodded, “the phone number is on there. Tell them I sent you and they should set you up with an interview. Besides that, is everything going good? You were worried about Franny at her daycare, how’s that going?”

“I think it’s fine. She hasn’t come home crying yet. I think she misses Debbie though. Carl’s been taking her to visit every weekend,” Ian said distractedly as he stared down at the piece of paper.

“And Mickey? How’s married life?” she asked as she typed away on her computer.

He glanced up at her and smiled thinking of his husband, “good, we’re good.”

“Good, now go to work, call the office, and I’ll see you in two weeks. I’m off next week,” she said glancing at him.

Ian nodded and moved to get up.

“And Ian, think about it. Don’t put your entire life on hold when you do have other opportunities,” she said, giving him a meaningful look.

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed his bag before making his way out of the room. When he left the office, he dialed the number on the sheet, and made an appointment. The woman at the non-profit sounded chipper, if not a little flustered, but she seemed nice enough when he mentioned his PO and being interested in the job opportunity. He’d be meeting with the non-profit director on Wednesday and he made a note in his phone to make sure he showed up and reminded him to get the time off at Patsy’s. 

Making his way back toward the South Side to pick up Franny from daycare, he considered what his PO had said. 

This isn’t the first time his PO had mentioned becoming a counselor. She’d suggested it the first time they met when he expressed interest in going back to being an EMT. He’d checked it out and he knew he’d be good at it, but he also knew Mickey had never gotten the opportunity to pursue anything he liked or have a real job. 

The truth was he really wouldn’t mind being a counselor. He’d seen how much Trevor had helped the kids he worked with and while most of the other shit with his ex-boyfriend had been just that - shit - he did like helping kids who were dealing with their own issues. 

Going back to school sounded daunting, though, (another reason he was proud of Mickey for doing it) and he knew if he decided to go the counseling route, he’d be creating issues where there were none. Either Mickey would feel forced to go back to selling drugs and guns to support them or Ian would - and he didn’t want to think about this - have to sell his body because that was the easier option. 

Obviously, Mickey wouldn’t go for that though and the thought made Ian’s stomach hurt.

Going back to school while Mickey wanted to start his own career would just put them in a jam and Ian doubted either of them would even finish anything resembling a degree or whatever plumber’s got upon graduation - a certificate? 

He knew Mickey was excited to get out of working at Old Army. He couldn’t ruin that for him because of his own selfish desire to leave Patsy’s. 

It would be so much easier if he could just get his old EMT job back and then they wouldn’t have to worry about money. 

Well, not as much at least. 

The one thing Ian was very much afraid of was Mickey sliding back into old habits. He wasn’t visiting his husband in prison, that was for sure.

Right now was Mickey’s turn, Ian decided. While he couldn’t give him much, Ian could give him the opportunity to figure out his passions and pursue them.

* * *

When Ian got to the daycare to pick up Franny, she was sitting in a corner by herself playing with some old dolls. 

“Hey Franny, you ready to go?” he asked, picking her up. She burrowed her head in his shoulder and he was surprised at the sudden death grip on his neck. He noticed that her clothes were not the pink leggings and sparkly unicorn top Mickey had picked out for her last night and he wondered what had happened to them. She was now in a pair of black leggings and a matching top. Had Mickey changed her after Ian had left?

“What’s--”

“Mr. Gallagher, do you have a moment?” the teacher asked, gesturing for Ian to come over to the corner she was standing in.

Ian nodded and carefully stepped around other kids to get across the room to where the teacher was standing.

“Franny, go grab your stuff so I can talk to Ms. Carol,” Ian instructed, setting her down and turning to the blonde, perky preschool teacher.

She gave him an apologetic look and moved further off to the side.

“An incident happened with Franny today,” the teacher said quietly.

Ian’s eyebrows raised as he prepared himself for whatever bad thing Franny had done. She was a Gallagher and Carl had been teaching her karate it was bound to happen…

“What--”

“The other children have been making fun of her. She, uh, she had an accident--”

“What type--”

“She had a bodily fluid accident. It happens and she had a change of clothes, so everything was fine, but the other kids have been calling her names. I wanted to let you know because, well, we don’t tolerate bullying and we’ve talked to those children’s parents as well,” the teacher said apologetically.

Ian stared at her for a moment and then nodded slowly, “right, okay, thanks for telling me.”

He turned over to Franny who was walking back over with her backpack and a plastic bag filled with her clothes. He looked at her sad features, puffy eyes, and frown and he knew his little niece was getting the first round of shit kids threw your way when you were a Gallagher.

“We’ll see you Monday,” Ian said, taking Franny’s hand and leading her out the door. As they left the daycare and walked the couple of blocks to the house, he tried to get her to talk about her day, but she remained tight lipped. This was very unusual for her when generally she was pretty chatty, especially because she liked daycare, at least until today.

“Will Uncle Mickey play tea party with me tonight?” she asked when he tried to pry out yet again what happened at daycare.

Ian chuckled at the question and he was happy to see a small smile grace her features. “I’m not sure, Franny, does he usually play tea party with you?”

She nodded happily, “he’s the best guest. Although, I’m not supposed to say anything. No offense, Uncle Ian. I’ll ask when he gets home.”

Ian made a mental note to ask Mickey when he’d played tea party with Franny since he had never mentioned it before and neither had she until this moment. He wondered if maybe he never had, and Franny was trying to get him to because she’d gotten everyone else in the house to do it already.

“Tomorrow Uncle Carl is going to take you to visit your mom,” Ian said as they came into view of the house.

She perked up at that and smiled the rest of the way home, talking animatedly about how she was going to bring one of her pictures she colored to Debbie. 

As they entered the house, the smell of garlic hit them and Franny let out a shriek since anything happening in the kitchen was a definite sign Mickey was home. Ian followed after his niece and smiled when he saw his husband going at it in the kitchen. He was cutting up chicken and there was a pot of water already bubbling and a sauce pain that had garlic and onions browning.

“Hey,” Ian said, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and kissing him gently on the cheek. He knew how pissy he got if Ian tried to kiss him on the mouth while he was cooking, said it distracted him. And he made Ian stop after he’d burnt a batch of cookies Mickey had made for Liam to take to school for some bake sale. 

“Come on, man, can’t you see I’m cooking,” Mickey whined, but he saw his lips quirk up in a smile and he kissed the corner of his mouth before pulling away and looking down at Franny who was also trying to get his attention.

Ian knew it would annoy him, but it was worth it.

“I colored this for you, Uncle Mickey!” she said holding up a piece of paper with scribbles all over it. Ian could kinda make out a face, but it was obscured by a lot of black, which he could only assume was his husband’s hair.

“I’ll put it on the fridge,” Ian said, taking it from her and placing it beside the one she’d done of Carl and himself earlier in the week. 

“I think Franny has a question for you,” Ian announced pointedly as she raced around to sit at the table where one of her coloring books and markers were waiting for her.

“What is it?” Mickey asked distractedly as he read a recipe off his phone.

“Franny? You can ask Mickey about the t--”

“Shh Uncle Ian, I’m not supposed to ask him to play that when other people are around,” she said scowling at him.

Ian smirked as he turned to look at his husband who had turned away from him and was washing some vegetables in the sink. Now he understood why he’d never seen Mickey at a tea party or heard any mention of it. He’d demanded that Franny keep a lid on the fact her big, bad, South Side thug uncle had tea parties with her.

“Good catch, kid,” Mickey muttered and Ian swore he was purposefully avoiding looking at him.

“How about the three of us have a tea party tonight? After dinner?” Ian suggested eager to see his husband at a tea party with their small niece.

Mickey glared at him and Franny clapped her hands in excitement. “Uncle Mickey has to bake cookies then! It’s the law.”

Ian laughed softly as Mickey huffed. 

“I could stop at the store and grab some?” 

“No, they have to be Uncle Mickey’s Famous Chocolate Chip ones! They’re the best,” Franny said. 

Ian laughed harder as Mickey’s face turned red. 

“Think there’s a frozen batch in the freezer we can back,” he muttered without looking up.

“Should we invite Liam to our tea party?” Ian asked Franny.

“He’s at a friend’s studying. He’s having dinner over there,” Mickey said, “And Carl’s working late. It’s just us tonight.”

“Not even Sandy?”

Mickey shook his head, “nope. Got a problem with that?” 

Ian grinned, “no, guess not.”

* * *

As Mickey made dinner, Ian took Franny upstairs for a bath. He figured she could use one after her accident at school today. Once she was cleaned, she went to her room to go set up for their after dinner tea party and he went to take his own shower, feeling like he smelled like greasy burgers. 

As he got out of the shower and walked into his and Mickey’s new room (they’d switched with Carl the week before), he could smell the delicious scent of dinner wafting up the stairs and he hoped it was ready or close to it when he came back downstairs.

“Yo! Set the table, I’m not doing everything!” Mickey yelled as Ian walked down the stairs. 

“Such a bossy bottom,” Ian said, grabbing some plates and setting the table.

Mickey rolled his eyes at him and brought over the leafy salad he made and the pot of fettuccine alfredo he’d been making. He dished out portions to all three of them and then they sat down to dig in. 

“So, uh, I signed up for the vocational shit,” Mickey grumbled twisting noodles around his fork.

Ian smiled, pride blossoming in his chest, “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised. But yes, I start June 1st. I should be able to work at Old Army too, just have to go down to part time. You talk to your PO about getting your EMT job back?” Mickey asked around a mouthful of noodles.

“Yeah, she, uh, thinks I should do something else. Says there’s no guarantees they’ll hire me back,” Ian said embarrassed.

He looked down at his own dinner plate and twirled his fork until it was full and popped it in his mouth. He wasn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed, but he focused on Mickey’s wedding ring instead of looking him in the eye as he chewed.

“But they liked you right?”

“Yeah, but Sue isn’t taking my calls…”

“So? Find somewhere else to work.”

“The PO says that I should try getting a degree. Suggested I look into getting a degree to become a counselor,” Ian muttered, flicking his eyes up to Mickey’s to gauge his reaction.

“Really?” Mickey asked slowly, “are you?”

Surprised he said, “we can’t have two of us going through school. How will we do anything? You’re not going back to selling for your dad and I’m not… No more illegal shit.” 

Mickey sighed and focused on his plate, “well, if you want to help people--”

“Mick, I support you in going back to school. This is going to be good. Plumbers make a lot of money and while it’s a commitment, I’m just, I’m really fucking proud you’re doing this. Don’t worry about me. I have an interview on Wednesday at a non-profit. I think that could be a good way for me to spend my time too. The EMT shit...I’m going to wait until I’ve been out a year and try to get my old job back. We’ll be fine.” Ian said vehemently.

He watched as Mickey’s cheeks reddened and he nudged him with his foot under the table making him look at him instead of back down at his plate. 

“I’m glad you’re doing this. You deserve finding something you’re passionate about apart from guns and dick,” Ian said smirking at him. He reached across the table and picked up Mickey’s left hand, feeling the metal of his ring rub against his flesh. He shivered at the contact and a warm gooey feeling filled his stomach. 

And it wasn’t just from the delicious dinner.

Mickey laughed and glanced at Franny who was stuffing her face and not paying attention to their conversation.

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

Ian grinned at him, finding the bashfulness that came over Mickey to be so endearing. He loved how he got when Ian told him he was proud of him or gave him a compliment. He got this shy look on his face, a red tint to his cheeks, and he always drew his eyes down as if waiting for him to take it back. But Ian would never take it back and every time he saw that look, he made a mental note to say something similar so he could see his hard thug husband become soft and saccharine. 

He’d consider it one of his favorite Top 10 Mickey Looks (fuck yes he had a mental list) and always catalogued what had made him look so gooey.

The rest of dinner continued and Franny interjected to tell them that she was excited to go see her mommy tomorrow. Mickey told some stupid jokes that his coworkers had told him and Ian thought that if this was the other shoe dropping - him having to make a choice between putting his own desires on the back burner and supporting Mickey with his career dreams - then he knew they were going to be fine. 

Bullies and pursuing new passions were a cakewalk compared to homophobic fathers and mental disorders.

* * *

An hour later, Ian couldn’t control his giggles at seeing his husband wearing his required ‘tea party hat.’ It was a crown made out of construction paper that Franny had colored scribbles on to make it bejeweled (Ian’s word, not Mickey’s). It sat lopsided on his head while Ian was forced to wear a baseball cap she’d dislodged from under the bed. He’d had to shake off a few dust bunnies, but it was okay.

“Mommy usually wears this one, but I guess you’ll have to do it,” Franny said, pouting as Ian put the hat on.

“Why does he get that one?” Mickey whined.

“Uncle Mickey! Cause you’re special! Uncle Ian is just like mommy, he’s  _ always _ around,” Franny said as if speaking to a child.

Ian scrunched his face up in annoyance at how easily his niece blew him off and narrowed his eyes at Mickey smirk.

“Hear that, Gallagher, I’m special,” Mickey mocked and Ian went to nudge him under the table, but ended up hitting a leg of it and sending the cups shaking, so liquid spilled from them. Franny let out a gasp and glared at her taller uncle. 

“Uncle Ian! Careful!” she exclaimed.

Ian raised his hands up in a surrender gesture, “Uncle Mickey made me do it.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t do shit,” Mickey said rolling his eyes. 

She looked between them suspiciously and then poured some tea from her small pot for her stuffed hippo that Carl had bought (possibly? Or stolen) for her on the way back from the prison after visiting Debbie a few weeks back.

“Mr. Nicky, do you want more tea? I think you do,” Franny said, pouring some tea for the hippo.

Ian snuck a look at Mickey who was frowning at the hippo and he wondered if his husband had figured out that Franny had named the stuffed animal after him. The thought made him smile at how taken Franny seemed to be with Mickey. 

Seeing how good Mickey was with her, he couldn’t help thinking about a future with kids, a house, and maybe an animal even more than he already did.

And he thought about it a lot.

In the last day, he’d thought about it a good three times, not including right now.

Long ago when they had dated the last time, Ian had continuously imagined what a future between the two of them would be like. He had imagined it every way he could. They lived in apartments, houses, once a mansion. (Ian imagined himself getting rich and famous and taking care of Mickey the way he felt he deserved.) There were daydreams of Mickey getting a job he liked or Ian becoming an officer in the military and sharing that success with the brunette. 

When they were apart, Ian still found himself imagining a life with Mickey, but this time it was  _ just _ with Mickey as opposed to imagining any of these other things. He just wanted to think about spending time with Mickey or being around him. Nothing else had mattered if Mickey was there. 

When they were in jail together, Ian had imagined what their life would be like when they got out and how they could  _ be together.  _ Now that they were actually here and while not everything was perfect - they could make more money and not have to worry about what could happen to Liam or Franny - this was the dream he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto the longest. 

Just being together, he didn’t need anything if Mickey was just with him. 

However, watching how good Mickey was with the kids was really doing something for him. Seeing how soft and caring Mickey was gave him this soothing knowledge that he was in good hands when the brunette was around. If Mickey was an eighth like how he was with Franny, he knew their kids would never have to worry about feeling unloved the way they had felt growing up. 

“Uncle Ian, can you pass the cookies?” Franny asked, raising her eyebrows at him. 

Mickey was staring at him a little concerned. He realized maybe he’d been staring off into space for too long and they’d been trying to reach him.

“Of course,” Ian said sheepishly and then looked over at Mickey who was still watching him.

“You good over there, Gallagher?” Mickey asked moving his hand hand from the tea cup and reaching over to stroke Ian’s cheek. Ian kissed his palm and sighed in contentment.

He felt the bubble of happiness that seemed to be consuming more and more of him these days and nodded, “yeah, yeah. Hey, Franny, how about we start getting ready for bed? We can continue the tea party tomorrow.” 

She scowled and looked to be getting ready to scream blood murder when Mickey leaned over and scooped her up, he held her tightly to him and began to make zooming noises and twirl her toward the door. He began to make flying sounds as they headed toward the bathroom and Ian could hear her giggles from down the hall. 

He sighed, happy they had avoided a shit show and then began to clean up the tea and cookies. He brought them downstairs and poured the liquid into the sink and put the cookies in a tupperware. 

He looked around the kitchen to see that everything was in order and then began to lock down the house before heading back upstairs. Liam had come home in the middle of their tea party and had just laughed at the two of them, loudly declining to play. 

Mickey wasn’t in bed yet, so Ian went down to Franny’s room to find her tucked in and his husband reading her a story. He leaned against the doorway and listened to the end of it, watching as Franny’s eyes became heavy and she slowly drifted off. 

They kissed her on the forehead and then shut her door. Now, it was time for their own evening routine. 

Cupping Mickey’s face before they could take a few more steps in the hallway, he kissed him desperately. Sometimes it astounded him how much he needed to feel Mickey, even when they had only spent a few hours apart (which was really nothing when they’d spent years apart). The evening seemed to have gotten away from them and between cooking and the tea party, Ian wasn’t able to give him a proper kiss since he got home. 

He felt Mickey’s fingers curl around his wrists and he grinned as his husband’s tongue found his own. Pulling back when his lungs began to need air, Ian rested his forehead on Mickey’s. 

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he breathed, pulling away so they could continue getting ready for bed and finish this up in their room.

“Shit, Gallagher, I’m right here, all you gotta do is kiss me,” Mickey said quietly.

When Ian looked into his eyes, he saw melancholy there and he knew he was thinking of a time long ago when kissing wasn’t so easy for them. A time when Mickey would rather have chewed glass than kiss him and Ian had spent hours wishing he could sum up the courage to take that first step.

Now, they had the luxury to kiss all the time and Ian knew he’d never take it for granted, but sometimes movements that were easy to other couples weren’t always easy for them. Sometimes, Ian had to remind himself that they were  _ married  _ and he was able to touch Mickey whenever he wanted to.

Ian moved back in and placed a gentler kiss on his mouth before giving him one more peck and heading toward the bathroom.

They usually traded off in the bathroom before bed, but Ian couldn’t shake the conversation he’d had with Franny’s teacher earlier, so when Mickey followed him, he figured he’d bring it up before they tumbled into bed since they both had other things on their mind - more pleasurable things. Now seemed to be as good of a time as any.

“You’re getting her when she starts crying later.”

Ian smirked, “deal. So listen, Franny’s teacher told me she was getting bullied at school.”

“What?” Mickey asked angrily.

“Yeah, she pulled me aside today,” Ian said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“What’d she say?” Mickey inquired watching him carefully, his tasks of flossing temporarily halted.

Ian finished up with his teeth before washing his face and then he turned to Mickey so he could use the sink.

“Not much, just kids were calling her names. She - she had an accident at school today. I’m wondering if this has to do with Debbie not being around.” Ian said quietly.

“Fucking probably, she’s 3 years old and she misses her mom,” Mickey said in annoyance as he finished taking care of his teeth and washing his face.

“You think it’s too early to teach her how to punch?” he asked, dabbing his face on the towel.

“Mickey…” Ian said in that way he knew conveyed to his husband that he wasn’t joking and they had to be serious.

Mickey smirked, “it would be fucking fantastic teaching a three year old to hit.”

“Mick, come on, we’re not - fucking - we’re not teaching a kid to fucking punch,” Ian said glaring at him.

He laughed and pushed Ian’s shoulder, “isn’t Carl teaching her karate?”

“That’s not the same as teaching a kid to meaningfully punch someone,” Ian reminded him with a glare.

“Wasn’t Debbie into punching people? Seem to remember she has a violent streak,” Mickey said, ignoring him.

“And now she’s in prison,” Ian reminded him with a meaningful look.

Mickey sighed, “what are they calling her?”   


“She won’t say, I’m assuming that it has something to do with being a redhead, a Gallagher, or having an accident at school. Hell, it could be all three,” Ian said nervously. 

He nodded his head toward the door to signal to Mickey that he was done and ready to head to bed, but Mickey reached out and placed his hands on Ian’s hips.

Mickey frowned, “when kids used to make fun of me, I just beat the shit out of them. There’s something to it, Ian. No one fucked with me after second grade.”

“Mick, come on. We’re not--” Ian sighed heavily, “it would be wrong.”

Mickey smirked at that and shrugged, “Just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah, there’s a better way. I’ll try talking to her again. See what’s going on and then we’ll fix it  _ non-violently.”  _

Mickey fixed him with a semi-serious look, “what will we do if our kids get bullied?”

Ian’s eyes widened in shock at his question. He hadn’t even realized Mickey had thought about kids other than the conversation they had had earlier about waiting and before the wedding, which Ian was 100% okay with because Franny and Liam were a lot of work. He could hear his heart racing as the question reverberated in his brain. 

Mickey had brought up having kids.

How often did he think about their kids?

“You’re good with her, you know,” Ian said instead of answering and then added, “and our kids are bound to get bullied. We’re Gallagher- Milkoviches and we’re two men who are gay on the South Side,” Ian pointed out quietly. He’d meant for it to be funny, but it was also the truth.

Mickey scowled, “how can you be so calm about that? It fucking sucks getting bullied and _ I  _ was a bully.”

“Yeah, I fucking know,” Ian said giving him a pointed glare.

“I’m just saying. I think that scaring kids off is a lot more meaningful than talking it out or whatever,” Mickey said heavily.

Ian could feel Mickey’s grip on his waist tighten and he shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He knew what Mickey was really saying. He was worried about Franny and their future kids and whomever else thought that bullying their family was a good idea and he just wanted them to be prepared. 

He understood his point that being scary would always be more impactful and keep the bullies away, but Ian didn’t want their kids to have to go through that shit. He knew it was far-fetched, but he wanted their future kids not to have to face adversity, the way he’d always wished to grow up. 

And Ian remembered a small brunette boy in Little League who was continuously made fun of because his clothes were torn and he was dirty. He was sure some of this anger and anxiety was probably stemming from Mickey’s own experiences. 

Ian got it. He’d been made fun of for having Frank and Monica as parents, for having red hair, for being gay… 

Wanting to comfort him, he leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the minty freshness of toothpaste and mouthwash. He felt Mickey’s arms move from his hips to around his waist and pull him closer. Ian opened his lips in invitation and sighed happily as Mickey’s tongue entered his mouth. He felt the slickness of his husband’s tongue lick at his bottom lip and Ian knew he had to pull away so they didn’t end up fucking in the bathroom, which he wasn’t against but they had a bed now.

He had one more point to make though...

“I don’t want our kid getting bullied anymore than you do, but I don’t want them thinking violence is the answer,” Ian said looking down at Mickey’s red lips.

“I’m not saying you’re right, but I don’t like to think of our imaginary kid or Franny getting bullied. What do normal people do?”

Ian laughed, “fuck if I know. I think we gotta start with talking to her.”

Mickey huffed and began to pull Ian in the direction of their bedroom. Ian figured their conversation was over as they headed down the hall already eager to start with the best part of their evening, but ever so softly he heard Mickey say,“I don’t want our kid to get bullied. Or Franny.”

Ian felt simultaneously heartbroken and overwhelming love for his husband at the statement. He tightened his hold on Mickey’s hand and moved forward quickly to wrap his arms around his waist to bring his back against his chest. He nuzzled the back of his shoulder and kissed the soft lightly freckled skin there.

“With you as their dad, who would be stupid enough to ever bully our kids or Franny. We’ll figure it out, kids are mean, but we’ll teach them to handle it, like we’ve handled it and our siblings have.” Ian whispered and then tilted Mickey’s head up to meet his lips. 

They barely made it through the doorway of their new bedroom before their clothes were hitting the floor and they were finding comfort and love in each other. 

* * *

Ian was awakened by a soft knock on their bedroom door. He slowly came to, seeing that Mickey was still asleep in front of him, so he quietly untangled their limbs, grabbed a pair of boxers off the ground and opened the door to see Franny and Liam standing there staring at him.

“What’s up?” Ian asked, running a hand across his face to wake up.

“There’s someone at the door,” Liam said as Ian closed the door behind him as to not wake Mickey and hobbled further into the hallway.

“Who is it?” Ian asked, shaking the exhaustion from his head. It was Saturday and he usually slept in on Saturdays. He and Mickey had a ritual of enjoying each other’s bodies and sleeping in until someone came to bother them or one of their alarms went off to alert them to get a move on to head to work or they were bothered, usually by Franny, but Lip sometimes. 

“Some pale girl, said she’s here for you and Mickey,” Liam said shrugging and going back downstairs, Franny following after him. 

Ian frowned and brought up the rear. As he headed down the stairs, he froze before he could even reach the last step upon seeing the brunette female in front of him.

Mandy waved at him sheepishly and smiled almost apologetically.

“Hey,” she said.

Ian blinked, taking her in and then turned around to head back upstairs and wake up Mickey.


	6. The Tears Will Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Mandy talk. Mickey figures out what to do about Franny getting bullied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who are reading, who have left comments, and who have clicked kudo! You guys are fantastic and I wouldn't be here without you. I very much appreciate the feedback. I had difficulties with this chapter. I think I have an obsession with domestic/soft Ian/Mickey and it's probs unhealthy. That being said, I also am a sucker of their growth, which is mostly this chapter. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!

_ “I left my head _

_ Many times I've been told _

_ All this talk will make you old _

_ So I close my eyes _

_ Look behind _

_ Moving on, moving on _

_ So I close my eyes _

_ Look behind _

_ Moving on _

_ Lost again _

_ Lost again _

_ One day I know _

_ Our Paths will Cross again _

_ Smile again _

_ Smile again _

_ One day I hope _

_ To make you smile again _

_ ~”Home Again” By Michael Kiwanuka _

* * *

“The fuck you been?” Mickey snapped upon seeing his sister standing in their kitchen. He was still rubbing his eyes, he was so tired, but at the sight of his only sister looking a little different but with the same hard expression on her face, any traces of exhaustion disappeared leaving behind anger and hesitation. 

Maybe there was some sadness in there too.

A slim amount of happiness -  _ whatever _ .

But it didn’t change the fact he hadn’t heard from her in a long time.

Ian had shaken him awake with a wide eyed look and had told him to hurry the fuck up and get dressed. As he walked down the stairs, grumbling about Ian waking him up, he froze at the sight of Mandy leaning against the counter and giving him a sheepish look.

“Around. Tried calling you a few times,” she said and Mickey watched as she looked over at Ian who was now sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of decaf and munching on a piece of toast he’d made for them. He was attempting to stay out of the conversation and give them some semblance of privacy without actually leaving, but Mickey knew he was paying rapt attention. As far as he knew, Ian hadn’t talked to her in at least a few months. He’d asked him right before the wedding if he’d talked to Mandy and Ian’s face had twisted into that same downtrodden look he’d gotten when asked why Fiona wasn’t coming. 

Turning back to his sister, Mickey slowly took in her. The lighter hair that made her look a little less harsh, the eyeliner that wasn’t as dark and angsty as it had once been. She was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a blue tank top that made her eyes extra bright and sincere. And he didn’t miss the small satchel she had left at the kitchen table.

He leaned further back into the wall, tightening his arms across his chest as he thought back to the last time he’d heard from Mandy.

He thought it was probably around the first time he was in the can for the Sammi shit (fuck that bitch). He fucking hated thinking of that time;  _ the lack of communication from anyone was disheartening _ . At least Svet had continued coming to see him for awhile after Ian had fucked off and the redhead  _ had _ come in the beginning, consistently too, until his sentencing at least… But once he’d hit his anniversary of his first year in prison... _ fuck _ .

Everyone had fucking disappeared. 

The thing was, he’d gotten relatively consistent letters from Mandy, until around the time Ian had fucked off. Then it was like everyone had forgotten about him.

It was a shitty feeling to realize you weren’t even fucking  _ considered _ , Mickey thought as he stared at Mandy. 

And while he had his own issues with Ian and Svetlana was complicated as fuck, he’d figured he could rely on his sister for just thinking about him, but - well, the last laugh was on him because they were Milkovichs and the only thing they were good for were finding drugs, guns, and ending up in prison. 

He knew she was doing okay, though. Usually, Ian talked to her on and off, at least once a month and she had written him a letter while they were in prison the last time, but he still felt pissed off that his closest sibling hadn’t even reached out to him. 

Especially when she’d been talking to Ian. 

The thing was, he’d learned after his first stint in prison that his family could just fuck off. They’d never been reliable, but after seeing how Ian’s family reacted to Carl going to juvie, well he began to wonder why his own family basically wrote him off every time someone went to jail or prison or fucking juvie.

What the fuck was wrong with all of them, he’d wondered when he saw other families visiting the inmates. Why was his family so fucked up? 

In all fairness, though, it wasn’t like he’d ever visited any of his siblings when they were locked up.

He’d told Ian once that he was the only family he ever needed (or wanted), the only one who ever tried to stick up for him and that was the truth. And that was kinda sad because Ian had fucked off too after it was revealed he was going to get eight years (and then at the border, but Mickey had released even before he’d asked that running away to Mexico with his mentally ill ex-boyfriend was probably not a great idea). 

Obviously, them breaking up that first - maybe it was technically the third - time probably had something to do with Ian disappearing. 

Still though, he’d always expected more from Mandy.

Maybe that wasn’t fair.

They hadn’t always been close, but they respected each other and if she ever needed help, he’d drop his own life to go make sure she was okay. He figured that had to count for something. And while he’d never admit it, he felt a little hurt that she’d been so distant over the last three years since she’d taken off with Kenyatta. 

He’d missed her.

But he’d never tell her that.

And maybe that was the saddest part of it all.

“Yeah, what the fuck ever,” Mickey snipped glancing over at Ian who was watching him carefully. He saw the soft look on his husband’s face and the subtle gestures he was trying to make that Mickey knew was him trying to rely that he needed to be nicer, gentler with her. 

He could almost hear Ian’s voice in his head saying ‘she’s been through a lot, Mick, be nice.’

He moved his arm as if to scratch his temple, but raised his middle finger to just as elusively flick him off. He saw Ian roll his eyes and go back to his coffee. He smirked to himself as Mandy wandered around their kitchen during their whole escapade.

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked, “And how’d you know where I was?”

She shrugged, “Iggy mentioned that you guys were married now. Thanks for the invite, assholes. Said he had a good time at the wedding.”

Mickey snorted and pushed off the wall and stomped over to the coffee pot to get his own cup of coffee.

“You woulda gotten a fucking invite if you had bothered to talk to me since I’ve been out of  _ prison _ .”

He heard his sister sigh as he went about making another pot of coffee, with caffeine this time. He’d finally gotten Ian off drinking caffeine while he was on his meds. He was pretty proud of himself for finding possibly the only worthy decaf in the city, but he’d found it at some frou-frou coffee shop and now it was the only thing Ian would drink and Mickey loved their dark roasted caffeine. The only thing was that Lip liked it too and whenever he came over he drank the pot by the gallon and since he was due any minute Mickey figured he’d put a pot on. He considered telling Mandy her shitty ex was headed over to drop off their nephew, but he was still feeling pissy that she’d basically ghosted him.

“Mick, I’m sorry, okay. I just...I wanted to get away from here. I wanted to be…” she trailed off and when he glanced over his shoulder at her, he saw she had that grumpy scowl on her face, the one she’d worn from the age of 10, and he knew what she was trying to say.

He’d spent a long time wondering what it would be like to get out of Chicago - leave the Southside. But then he did and then the Southside was the only place he wanted to be. Well, that wasn’t true, anywhere Ian was, was the only place he wanted to be. But he wasn’t that soft to tell him that - at least not in the middle of the day when they weren’t fucking.

Mickey had never claimed to be a genius. He was smart and he was pragmatic - for the most part. But one thing he was intuitive about was picking up on people’s emotions and reading between the fucking lines. 

You had to be if you had a father who was ready to burst with rage at the slightest misstep. How else would he avoid getting beaten? You had to be if you needed to learn people’s weaknesses to take advantage of them. How else would he make money? You had to be if you were in love with Ian Gallagher. How else would Mickey be able to tell if he was nearing a low or high episode? Mickey would be the one to pick up on the clues; he had to notice things that others didn’t. 

Communication, he’d learned, came in many different forms. Sometimes it was about throwing things at each other, yelling, or just a facial expression. Sometimes it was about looking into someone’s eyes, or noticing a nervous twitch. Sometimes it was the heavy silences and the slamming of objects. He’d learned early on that words sometimes just didn’t mean shit, but he could tell by the genuine sadness in his sister’s eyes that she was sorry.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and pulled her in for a quick hug glaring at his husband over her shoulder who was making a sappy ‘awe’ face at him.

When he pulled away, Mandy was smiling slightly and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before moving over to sit next to Ian.

“Do you have pictures from the wedding?” she asked as Mickey went about making the pot of coffee.

“Only a million of them,” he heard Ian say and she laughed in response.

He listened as Ian took out his phone and began to show her a slide show he’d made specifically for people who asked about the wedding. He came over with two cups of coffee, stopping momentarily to kiss his husband on the top of his head before sitting on his other side, and watched the two of them bicker back and forth as if no time had passed between them.

He’d always been jealous of how easily they talked to each other. First, he’d been jealous of Mandy for even being able to hang out with Ian without it looking weird. And then he was jealous of Ian for having a better relationship with his sister. But watching Ian tell her stories from their wedding over their kitchen table made his lips curve upwards.

As he regaled her with how Mickey had shoved cake in his face during one of those stupid traditions, the backdoor flew open and Tami came in holding Freddy.

“Hey,” she said, glancing at them before heading straight for the pot of coffee. Mickey watched as she poured half the pot into a thermos, while trying to juggle the baby. He glared at her and gritted his teeth to stop himself from telling her to bring her own fucking coffee to make if she was going to drink most of theirs. He wasn’t a fucking barista and they weren’t fucking rolling in dough.

“Hey, Tami, you want me to take Fred?” Ian asked, interrupting his story and moving to help her.

She barely glanced at him before handing the baby off. “Lip was supposed to help, but  _ of course _ , he got stuck fixing the shitty water pressure. I fucking hate--”

The door swung open again interrupting the beginnings of what Mickey could recognize as a Tami Bitch Session and in walked Carl, Sandy, and Lip.

He watched as the three of them froze at the sight of Mandy sitting at the kitchen table. Sandy was the first to move forward and embrace her cousin. She pulled Mandy up and hugged her tightly.

As they hugged, Mickey looked over toward Lip who was staring at her in shock and Carl who smiled slightly and went over to the fridge to grab some orange juice. Mickey was thankful that Carl had yet to figure out the wonderful world of coffee, so he had no issue with Carl (who also contributed with cash for bills) drinking the OJ.

“Holy fuck, Mandy, the fuck have you been? Love the blonde by the way, very subtle,” Sandy said.

Mandy smiled and pulled away, “been living in Michigan.”

“Really? Wow? The fuck’s that like?” Sandy asked curiously.

Mandy shrugged, “it’s Detroit.”

“Bet the music scene is awesome, though. Are you visiting or staying?” 

Mandy glanced at Mickey and then Ian. Mickey noticed she was avoiding looking at Lip, who seemed to have frozen in the doorway and was looking a little like a statue. “I’m not sure, I just…”

Ian jumped in quickly, “you can stay here, Debs is, well, you can sleep in her room. If you’re okay with sleeping in the same room as Franny.”

“Franny?” Mandy asked, frowning.

“Niece,” Mickey said, sipping his coffee to hide the smile that was threatening to overcome his features as Lip seemed to slowly come out of whatever spell had been put on him.

“Sorry, I must be missing something. Who are you?” Tami asked, causing Mandy to turn around to face her.

“That’s Mandy, Mickey’s sister,” Lip said, finally joining the conversation. 

Mandy and Tami both looked at him with varying expressions of dismay and he walked over toward the tall blonde who was still standing near the coffee. Mickey wondered if he was going over there for the coffee or because he wanted to be closer to his baby mama. 

“I’m Tami,” Tami said as if Mandy was supposed to know who she was.

Mandy nodded slowly and turned back around casting an eyeroll toward Ian who smirked and ducked his head.

“It’s nice to see you, Mandy,” Carl said and then disappeared into the other room to get Franny and Liam who were going to visit Debbie today.

“You going with them?” Mickey asked Sandy who had moved over to stand between him and Ian.

“Yeah, figured it was better than listening to Jamie and Colin fight over who was making the next delivery,” Sandy said shrugging.

“Such fuckheads,” Mandy and Mickey muttered in unison and they smiled at each other. 

“Same old shit going on?” Mandy asked, watching him and Sandy.

“Yeah, pretty much. Dad’s trying to kill us, guess that’s kinda new,” Mickey mused sipping his coffee.

“So Mandy, how are you? It’s been awhile,” Lip asked. 

Mickey watched as Tami looked between them with narrowed eyes and he could actually see the cogs moving in her brain. He wondered how long it would take her to figure out that they used to be a thing.

“Fine, Lip. Congrats on the baby,” she said pointedly avoiding his gaze and looking at Fred who was wiggling around in Ian’s arms.

“He’s cute,” she added glancing at Tami who seemed to almost be glaring at her.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Lip said quietly.

“Probably a better situation than the one you would’ve had with Karen,” Mandy said and the entire kitchen seemed to freeze save for Sandy who didn’t know the Karen days and Tami who frowned in confusion.

“Whose Karen?” Tami asked.

Mickey grabbed his coffee mug to take a sip and hide another smirk. He didn’t know much about Lip and Karen, only what he’d heard from Ian and Mandy, both didn’t like to talk about that time. Obviously, for different reasons. Ian’s mostly centered around hating Karen and Mandy’s was around hate -- well, maybe they were the same reasons. 

Regardless, all he knew was that Karen had gotten pregnant, Lip thought it was his. He tried to help her and it didn’t go very well. 

But judging by Tami’s question and the deer-in-the-headlights look on Lip’s face, he hadn’t told his current baby mama about his ex-almost-baby-mama. 

He watched a smirk appear on Mandy’s face as Lip’s became beet-red and he almost wanted to laugh at the situation. 

_ What was Mandy playing at?  _

However, he felt a sudden shock of pain when a foot connected to his shin and he looked up to see Ian giving him a pointed look and he took another sip of coffee to try to swallow his laughter and continue concealing the smirk.

Thankfully, Carl came into the kitchen.

“Hey, you guys ready?” Carl asked, Franny and Liam following him.

“Uncle Mickey! Will you come with me to go get my pictures? I forgot them upstairs and I want to show mommy!” Franny whined going over to Mickey and pouting up at him.

_ Thank fuck _ , he thought. He’d get to avoid whatever shitshow the kitchen was about to turn into thanks to his niece. As much fun as it would be to watch Lip get yelled at by two women, it was still early and he’d come to like Lip -  _ a little.  _ Besides, he’d seen how much Tami yelled and if memory serves correctly, Mandy could brawl with the best of them. He wouldn’t wish that combo on anyone. 

Paula, maybe.

“Sure, kid,” Mickey said, picking her up and walking with her back upstairs. They went to her room and he dropped her onto the floor so she could grab her pictures she’d colored for Debbie.

“Hey, Franny, can I ask you something?” Mickey asked hesitantly. 

His conversation with Ian still lingered heavily in his mind and he figured this was as good a time as any to ask her. They were alone and he didn’t think she’d mind bringing up what happened to him, especially because she was excited about going to see Debs. While he figured Ian would probably get more out of her, he wanted to at least talk to her, see where the little girl was coming from. If Ian said that talking was supposed to be the first step, then he figured he should at least get comfortable communicating without fists, slurs, and throwing shit. 

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him with her big eyes.

He bit his lower lip as he tried to broach the topic with her. He figured he should straight up ask her and not beat around the bush. That’s what kids wanted, right? To be transparent or some shit. Or would she not understand because she was three? Mickey didn’t know. He wasn’t around kids much, his own son included, but he figured that if he just asked her, she’d fess up,  _ right _ ? She was smart and he knew she trusted him, so it shouldn’t be  _ that _ hard...

“Uncle Ian said something happened at daycare yesterday. Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, biting the bullet. He tried to ignore how much of a pussy he felt right now asking her about her feelings and waited for her to answer.

Her lips curved downward and her eyes got a little too watery for his liking. “The other kids are mean,” she said quietly and looked down at the pictures in her hands. 

“I wanted to make friends and they were okay when I got there, but Lissy and Missy said that I didn’t have a mom cause she didn’t want me anymore and - and I got angry and I had an accident and the other kids called me - they called me smelly and - and  _ weird _ . They said I was gross cause I peed, but I didn’t mean to, Uncle Mickey, I had to go to the bathroom and I just…” big fat tears began to leak down her face…

And Mickey felt an odd mixture of anger and discomfort at watching her cry. He wanted to keep ahold of the anger because he knew how to use it, but watching her cry, well it was...uncomfortable. 

He wasn’t really sure what to do when it came to comforting a child, so he did what Ian did on the very off occasion he found Mickey crying. 

He moved forward to wrap his arms around her for a hug and rubbed her back gently as she stifled into his t-shirt.

He sighed heavily as she hugged him back and he knew he shouldn’t want to beat up a bunch of little kids, but he really wanted to. Who wouldn’t for hurting the little girl crying in front of him? 

What most people didn’t know about Mickey was that before he was a bully, he’d been bullied. It probably doesn’t excuse his behavior or the shit he did to other kids in elementary school (by middle and high school he’d already moved on to selling drugs and doing runs for dear ol’ dad.) but he’d learned early on that no one messed with you if you were mean. 

He’d been bullied when he was a kid cause he didn’t take regular showers and he was always dirty cause he had no one at home who cared enough to make him do that shit. Of course, as a kid you didn’t want to shower or brush your teeth or eat vegetables, and when both parents were gone or too high to give a fuck, well, he didn’t know how to take care of himself and it wasn’t like he had a Fiona-type-figure at home. So other kids made fun of him. It didn’t help that he was small and had to wear his brother’s clothes. It didn’t help that his father was a Milkovich and his mother had been a prostitute when he was a kid, before she’d ODed. It really didn’t help that Icky and Mickey rhymed and it was easy to make a song that made him feel like shit and swam around his head, mocking him.

But people cared about Franny -  _ he _ cared about Franny and he didn’t want to see her get bullied cause some kids thought she was gross.

“Hey, Franny, I know it’s hard, but don’t listen to those kids. They’re assholes and no one likes assholes,” Mickey said and Franny moved away from him and frowned.

“And I’ll tell you a secret, okay?”

She nodded slowly, the tears beginning to dry on her cheeks.

“I was bullied, too. And I turned out okay,” he chose to leave out the part about how he ended up in prison and juvie or the shit about being on the run from the cartel. Instead he focused on, “and I found your Uncle Ian and he doesn’t think I’m gross, right?”

She nodded slowly, “right!” Suddenly she smiled shyly, “maybe if I have words on my hands too they’ll stay away.” 

He watched as she looked down at his fingers and laughed, “when you get home, we’ll give you words on your hands. For now, you’re going to see your mom with Uncle Carl.”

Franny smiled widely and nodded, all traces of tears gone. “Deal,” she exclaimed and then hurried out of the room and back into the kitchen where they were greeted by Tami yelling.

“Who the fuck is Karen?” Tami was asking as they came back into the room.

_ Were they still on this shit?  _ Mickey wondered.  _ They’d been upstairs for awhile, how many times had Tami asked that question? _

Mickey looked over at Ian who had moved to lean against the fridge and out of the firing range. Smirking, he moved toward his husband. Ian caught his eye and subtly rolled them. Baby Fred was still in his arms and once Mickey had come to stand beside him, he could quietly hear his husband making cooing sounds at the baby. Carl grabbed Franny’s hand as she came to stand next to him and he glanced over at Mickey and Ian.

“We’ll be back later,” Carl said quietly to them and then lead the four of them out. Liam glanced curiously at Mandy and then waved goodbye. This left the five of them in the kitchen and Mickey had no intention of starting his morning out with a screaming match between his sister, Lip, and Tami.

“I don’t fucking have time for this. We have to go to work,” Lip snapped and he left without so much of a ‘goodbye.’

Ian looked over at Mickey with raised eyebrows and he shifted the baby in his arms. Mickey knew what he was thinking cause he was thinking the same thing. He was a little surprised by the fact Lip hadn’t even stopped to say ‘goodbye’ to Fred when usually he was head-over-heels for the kid. 

Tami looked at Mandy and then Ian and Mickey standing in the kitchen holding Fred. She let out an annoyed sound.

“You’re an ex too, aren’t you?” she asked, staring at Mandy.

Mandy glanced over at Mickey and Ian and then back to Tami. “Yeah, sort’ve. You could say that.”

“Fucking perfect,” Tami muttered. Mickey watched as she grabbed Fred out of Ian’s arms and moved to leave the house too.

“You’re not leaving Fred?” Ian called out after her in surprise.

Generally, Fred was left with them, but Mickey would be surprised if she ever let them babysit again and he hated that. It was going to upset Ian and Mickey had already seen how upset he was that Tami hadn’t let them watch the kid in the beginning. Ian had told Mickey all about the night he’d gotten home and how Tami didn’t even let him hold Fred, at least not for awhile. Mickey wondered if even Ian liked Tami, but Lip was going to be with whomever the fuck he wanted to, whether they liked her or not. Besides, it wasn’t really any of their business and very rarely did either of them even talk about Tami or Lip with each other, unless it was something about needing to watch Fred.

“Fuck no,” Tami yelled slamming the door behind her.

The three of them looked at each other and then Mandy and Mickey snickered as Ian rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“You had to bring up Karen?” Ian asked, starting to make breakfast.

She shrugged, “probably not the best idea…”

“No, probably not,” Ian agreed. “You want any breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“So are you here to visit or are you staying?” 

“Staying. Left Detroit for good,” she said.

“You have a bad break up?” Mickey asked jokingly as he began to help Ian make breakfast.

She was quiet and they both looked at her in concern when she avoided their gaze.

“That why you’re back? You hiding or something?” Mickey asked seriously.

She looked down at her hands and sighed, “yeah, or something.”

Mickey locked eyes with Ian who raised his eyebrows at him. He could clearly see the worry and concern on his face, he knew it was reflected in his own eyes. He may not be the best at verbal communication, but when it came to reading the looks on people’s faces he was a connoisseur. And both of them knew Mandy wasn’t probably visiting cause she was feeling sentimental.

* * *

“What do you think’s going on with Mandy?” Ian asked later that day.

Mickey was going in for the closing shift and Ian was working dinner, so they decided to go to Patsy for a late lunch. Mandy had elected to stay at their home and she was getting settled in, in Debbie’s room. She told them she was tired and would just wait for Sandy to get back.

Mickey didn’t have a great feeling about his sister visiting. She hated living on the Southside, especially once Lip had gone off to college. He knew there was more to this story than she was letting on and he’d bet the $603 in him and Ian’s joint bank account that it had to do with some shithead boyfriend she was probably dating.

“Boy drama, no doubt,” Mickey said.

They were sitting on the L waiting for their stop. Mickey was already thinking of the burger he was going to scarf down.

“Do you think we should be, you know, should we get involved?” Ian asked, casting a nervous look at Mickey.

He caught his gaze and held it as he thought back to Ian holding a knife to Kenyatta’s throat. It was the first time he’d realized that he wasn’t dealing with  _ his _ Ian anymore, he was dealing with a whole new animal - one who was willing to slice throats over someone he loved.

It was the same look he’d gotten before shanking that fatso in prison to fuck up his release. That time wasn’t so manic though, thank fuck.

Still, it was a little jarring to see the soft motherfucker who told him he loved him and wanted to be where he was putting a knife to someone’s throat or willingly shanking them because they threatened someone he loved.

It was a little hot, though, too if he was being honest.

“The moment Mandy came through that door we were involved,” Mickey muttered and then sighed, “you think your brother’s going to do something fucked up?” 

Ian laughed darkly and looked at Mickey, “I don’t want to think he would, but that shit was awkward this morning.”

Mickey grinned at him, “I’ve never seen Tami so pissed and she seems to have a melt down every fucking week.”

Ian shrugged and leaned against Mickey on the pretense of the L turning on the tracks, but he didn’t move away when the train evened out.

“She’s nice, I mean, I like that she lets us watch Freddy.”

“You mean, let  _ you _ watch Freddy. She fucking thinks I’m some random convict you brought home like a lost dog,” Mickey grumbled.

Ian snorted, “I can’t believe you just compared yourself to a lost dog. That’s so far from who you are. If anything, I’d say a lost cat.”

Mickey shoved him and let out a laugh through his nose, “you’re a fucking dick.”

Ian grinned at him and shrugged, resuming his position of leaning against Mickey. “Yeah, but I’m yours.”

Mickey looked out the window to avoid Ian from seeing the large grin across his face, but he could tell that he knew anyway because he took his hand and squeezed it gently, his wedding ring digging into Mickey’s fingers in the most pleasant fashion. 

He glanced back to Ian who was watching the activity on the L. It was Saturday afternoon and it wasn’t as busy as it would be later, but it was consistent and people were getting on and off to go about their days.

“Got Franny to talk,” Mickey said quietly, drawing Ian’s attention.

“What’d she say?” Ian asked worriedly.

Mickey sighed and the anger he’d felt earlier began to rise. “Just kids being assholes. Kept saying she smells and is gross and stuff.”

Ian frowned, “they said she smells and is gross?”

Mickey scowled and tried to ignore the bubbling of anger in his stop. He nodded, “yeah,” and opened his mouth to add more, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. He wanted to tell Ian that they needed to pull her from that daycare and send her somewhere else. But they were paid up through the summer and Franny had liked it until the kids started making fun of her. Not to mention it was convenient for them. They were both working and he was about to start vocational school in two weeks, so they couldn’t exactly have you stay home. There was no one to watch her, in all honesty. 

“What, uh, what are our options?” Ian asked as they neared their stop.

Mickey sighed and bit his lip as he considered the question as if he hadn’t been doing just that since Ian had mentioned it the night before.

“Dunno. Fight, talk, or withdraw her, I guess,” Mickey mused.

They looked at each other and then Ian sighed.

“Fine, but first, let’s see if Mandy has any ideas or even Tami. Maybe they know what it’s like to be bullied as a girl. I mean, generally Fiona would…and well, she’s not here, so I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Ian said running a hand through his hair.

“You know all those bitches are going to say fight. Hell, if we ask her mother, it’ll be fight too. You know I’m right on this,” Mickey said as they finally came to the stop near Patsy’s and started to move toward the door.

Ian scowled at him and he grinned back in response.

“We can talk to Mandy, maybe, we can con her into watching Franny,” Mickey said as they got off the bus.

“Fine, whatever. Ask her tonight,” Ian said heavily and Mickey grinned even wider. 

“Don’t be so down, Gallagher, we’ll have little Franny standing up for her ginger self in no time,” Mickey said and Ian cast him a look that was clearly supposed to be pissed off, but he had to turn away as a smile curved over his lips. As they got off the bus, he wrapped an arm around Ian’s waist to bring him closer. Automatically, Ian wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they headed toward Patsy’s. 

* * *

Mickey got home around nine and knew Ian wasn’t going to be home until later, which meant he would be alone with Mandy for awhile. As he walked into the house, he saw Liam and Carl sitting on the couch watching Netflix.

“How’d it go?” Mickey asked sitting in the armchair feeling exhausted from being on his feet so long.

“Fine, Debs is pissed Mandy didn’t come when we told her she was home,” Carl said, glancing at him.

“Where’s everyone?” Mickey asked, yawning.

“Sandy went home, Franny’s sleeping, Mandy’s in the kitchen, and we’re here,” Liam said without looking away from the TV.

“Right,” Mickey muttered and left the two of them to head into the kitchen. Sure enough, his sister was sitting there flipping through a magazine and drinking a soda.

“How was work?” she asked, glancing over at him.

He shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the fridge and joined her.

“Fine, work,” and then for some reason he added, “I’m going to vocational school. Figured I needed something that paid better than the shit I’m making at a shitty prep store.”

Mandy snorted and looked up at him, “not following in dad’s footsteps of being in and out of prison for the rest of your life?”

Mickey scowled at her, “not following in dad’s anything if I can help it.”

Mandy softened, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah whatever,” he said.

Mandy frowned and closed her magazine. “It’s cool if I stay here for awhile, right? I just...I have some cash, but I need to figure out where I want to go first.”

Mickey narrowed his eyes at her, “is this some shit I’m going to get pissed about?”

Mandy looked away and he watched as a sad expression washed over her face. “I’m just...I was working and things were good and then they...they weren’t. I thought he really cared about me, but he was just like all the rest of them,” she said avoiding his gaze and looking down at the table.

“Love’s fucked up. People are fucked up,” Mandy said quietly, sadly.

He felt his own features soften and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was still just them and then he reached a hand across the table and tapped the back of her hand.

“Mandy, people suck. Love  _ is _ fucked up. It’s hard finding someone worth your time,” Mickey muttered almost feeling embarrassed that his sister knew he was in love with Ian. It was just something they’d never talked about. The closest they had come to talking about it was when Mandy called him a coward and demanded he go find Ian while he was in his stripper phase.

He watched as she swallowed and then nodded a few times.

“How long’s Lip been with his baby mama?” she asked.

He frowned, “don’t go down that road. They’d been together awhile.”

She smirked at him, “wasn’t planning on it. I just...I need somewhere to lay low. I want to - I want to be around you guys. You’re the only - well, we’re family and I like Ian, so if it’s an issue that I stay--”

“It’s not.”

Mandy ran a hand through her blonde hair and then took a sip of her soda.

“Congrats, by the way.” she said.

“For what?” he asked, confused.

“On marrying Ian.”

He felt heat begin to rise over his cheeks and he tried to play it off. “Whatever, he’s - he’s--”

“Your husband,” Mandy supplied, giving him a pointed look.

“Whatever,” he said again rolling his eyes. “This guy do anything to you?” Mickey asked when all she did was smirk at him. He wanted to change the subject and the more he focused on Mandy, the more he figured he’d get out of her. She wasn’t the biggest talker, but he did pay attention to what she wasn’t saying. He watched the sad look come across her face and she sighed.

“I was, uh, working for him. He - got physical, I guess. Nothing I can’t handle, but...the last time. I was fucked up, scared me,” she muttered.

He let out a long breath and gave her a sad smile, “stay as long as you want. Debs isn’t getting out any time soon and honestly, you can help with Franny. That cool with you?”

Mandy nodded, “yeah.”

They fell into silence until Mickey asked, “what did you do to bullies? Franny’s being bullied at her daycare.”

Mandy frowned and said obviously, “punch them, it’s the Milkovich way.”

Mickey smirked slowly as he was proved right by his sister. He was sure, Tami would say the same thing. But he wasn’t going to ask because an idea came to his mind. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, firing a text off to Ian.

_ Option 4: Mandy takes care of Franny. _

He received back a thumbs up and Mickey felt as if he’d killed two birds with one stone. Although, he knew whatever shit Mandy was in with this guy would probably come back to bite him. For now, he wanted to reveal in his smarts and pat himself on the back for taking care of his niece  _ in a non-violent fashion.  _ At least, for a little while they wouldn’t have to worry about bullies and hopefully, but then they’d have it all figured out. 

As for getting their money back from the daycare, he’d come up with some scheme to make sure they weren’t losing anything. 

He smiled and told himself that this wasn’t running away, this was changing the path for the next batch of Gallaghers and Milkoviches. He didn’t want Franny turning out like Debbie or Mandy, just like he didn’t want Liam turning out like Lip or Frank. They were going to do better, be better. Just like his and Ian’s future kids. 


	7. Young And In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey get invited to a BBQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know I missed my usual update last Sunday and it's been over a week, so first I'd like to apologize for the long wait. I was finishing up my other fic and then this chapter wasn't really working for me for some reason. I wanted it to go in a different direction, but it didn't fit, so I rewrote it a few times and well here we are. I should be back to my regularly weekly updates, I'm thinking I'll try to get the next chapter up next friday or so, depending on my schoolwork and how my GW2020 fic goes. I started writing one and it's also not working for me, so maybe it's just writer's block.
> 
> Anyway, thank you everyone who has been reading and who had left comments! I really appreciate the feedback! I also want to thank those who have kudoed and bookmarked! I love that you guys are loving this fic. I hope you like this chapter! Please let me know what you think!

_ I get ready, I get all dressed up  
To go nowhere in particular  
It doesn't matter if I'm not enough  
For the future or the things to come  
'Cause I'm young and in love  
I'm young and in love _

_ ~"Love" By Lana Del Ray _

* * *

“Hey,” Ian greeted as he answered the phone. He was on his way back from work on Friday, riding the overcrowded L back to the Southside when his phone vibrated to life and Fiona’s name flashed across it.

“Hey, sweet-face, how’s it going?” Fiona asked. Her voice crackled over the phone, it took him a moment to hear it, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of sadness in her tone.

He was familiar with that intonation. While growing up, she’d always used that voice to try and sugarcoat a bad situation. 

He remembered when Frank and Monica would suddenly appear at the house late into the night and Fiona would try to usher them back into bed to make sure they weren’t dragged into whatever schemes their parents were doing at 3am. 

He remembered when Monica had taken off for good and Fiona tried to make the situation a little better by telling him to have hope she’d return someday. She would, time and time again, but it was that first conversation with his older sister that had always lingered with him. It was when he realized their mother didn’t want to be a mother. 

And he remembered when he’d been diagnosed and she continuously tried to placate him. Tried to make the diagnosis seem less than what they both knew it was.

Hearing that tone again after so long made his chest tighten in anxiety at the possibilities of what could have her in knots. He’d figured once she left the Southside and Chicago and  _ them,  _ she’d be happier, but then he should know running away didn’t necessarily make your issues disappear. 

Your issues always lingered with you, no matter where you were.

Sometimes he wondered if Fiona knew that; he’d thought about that when she came to see him in prison and told him she was planning on leaving.

“Got a new job,” Ian admitted quietly.

“Really? Where at?” 

“Receptionist, nothing special,” he said looking out the dirty windows of the L.

“How’s Mickey?” she asked when he didn’t offer up any other information.

“Good, good, he’s doing vocational school now,” Ian said laughing a little. He never thought he’d say that sentence, but it was nice to tell someone who was a little more removed from their lives. 

Lip had made a few snippy comments about it, which was to be expected, but Debs, Carl, and Liam had all been supportive. Fiona, on the other hand, now that she was off living in Florida, it was like telling someone out of the inner circle and it was pleasant to brag about his husband. 

Especially to someone who didn’t believe in him.

“Wow, that’s - that’s great. Who would’ve thought Mickey would be bettering himself,” Fiona admitted and he was glad to hear the genuine surprise in her tone.

_ Me,  _ Ian wanted to say, but he refrained. 

The last time they had spoken about the situation with Liam had been a bit… _ uncomfortable _ . He may have gotten on her case about ditching the youngest Gallagher and they hadn’t exactly left on the best terms. Not to mention their feud while he was manic had put a strain on their relationship.

As they sat on the phone in silence, he remembered when Fiona told him she couldn’t come to his wedding and how upset he’d felt. She’d blamed it on not having the time to get off of work to visit, but he always wondered if there was something more to it. Since she’d declined the invitation, the question had been on the tip of his tongue, but he had yet to ask. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up without making things worse.

It all just seemed to mount and it made his stomach hurt thinking of the cracks in their relationship. Fiona had always been someone he could rely on and now it seemed, well, he wasn’t sure where they stood.

“How’s Liam?” she asked softly.

Ian sighed, “he’s fine.”

The awkward silence built a little higher between them and Ian listened as she breathed into the phone. He wondered if she was just calling to check on things, but she could also call Lip, who he was pretty sure she talked to at least once a week.

“Anything new with you?” Ian asked when the silence stretched on.

“Ian, can I - can I ask you something?” she asked bypassing his question. He felt goosebumps break out across his skin and discomfort rose in his chest as he heard the question. He knew there was a reason she’d called...

“What?” 

“Why, Mickey?” 

Ian was silent as he took in the question, not expecting it. Was Fiona going to lecture him? Why was she asking him this now? They were married. What had happened to make her ask this?

“Why are you asking me this?” he asked curiously.

She was quiet for such a long time, he wondered if they got disconnected.

“I just...I was wondering why you always went back to him. How did you know?” She paused and he heard her sigh heavily, “there’s just - I, uh, I ran into Jimmy-Steve down here and...I don’t know.” 

Ian could hear the exhaustion in her voice and he wished they were closer so he could pull her into a hug. She sounded so sad, he wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say to make her feel better. It was strange that she was coming to him for relationship advice, but in the scheme of things, he had the healthiest relationship out of all of them.

He remembered a time long ago when Mickey had escaped prison and Fiona was giving him advice. He remembered how she’d told him to stay away from Mickey. He remembered how surprised she was when he mentioned Jimmy-Steve and he realized she had barely even thought of him after he’d appeared the last time, when he’d fucked up her already fucked up marriage to Gus… 

He remembered wondering if it was normal to think about someone as much as he thought about Mickey, even though so much time had passed by. By Fiona’s reaction to his question about Jimmy-Steve, he’d come to realize it was pretty abnormal to still be thinking so obsessively about an ex who he hadn’t seen for over a year.

“You know he was down there?” he asked quietly.

Fiona laughed sadly, “course not, haven’t seen him - I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

Ian was quiet as he digested that. He wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. She’d always told Lip these things, they’d been more into these feelings talks than them. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel comfortable or want to talk to his older sister, but Fiona was more of a mother figure to him than a sister, whereas Lip and her were too close in age for her to mother him. 

Although, that didn’t stop her from trying.

In all honesty, he’d always tried not to bother her with his bullshit. She always seemed too stressed out to deal with any of his issues, so he’d always chosen to keep it to himself and figure it out for himself. 

He’d only tell Lip when it was important and even then he’d wait awhile until the worst of it was over before bringing it up. He just didn’t want to bother anyone with his own shit when he knew there were so many other things going on.

It wasn’t until Mickey came into the picture that he finally had someone he could relay his shit too.

“Is that why you’re calling?” he asked quietly, “do you want me to tell you to go after him, that it’ll all work out?”

Fiona sighed, “just figured, you’re the only one who has a good relationship out of the six of us, I just thought...I don’t know. Sometimes I think about what I told you about going back to Mickey. How it would set a fire to your life. Seeing Jimmy again, well, it set a match to mine. I don’t know what to do.”

Ian smiled sadly as he listened to her talk. “What do you want to do?”

“No idea, I just - I needed to talk to someone about it and I just figured - well, you’re the only one out of us who seems to fucking get it - I don’t know, I’m probably an idiot.”

Ian laughed quietly, “You’re not an idiot, Fiona, you just...Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Ian wasn’t sure what to say to that, so instead he said, “We miss you.”

He could hear quiet sniffles and his heart ached for his sister. He missed her. Even though they’d had some rough times the last few years, he missed her a lot. Missed how things used to be. Missed her presence. Missed her vibrancy. Without her, the house felt emptier and while he was happy with his life now, he still thought about her a lot. How could he not when she’d been one of the few people who looked out for him.  
“You can always come home,” Ian added softly.

Fiona let out a watery laugh and he heard a few more sniffles, “maybe, I just - maybe.”

Ian sat with her on the phone for a few minutes before he finally got up the courage to say what he needed to.

“You know, I’ve never told anyone this, not even Mickey, but...I regretted not going with him for a very long time, probably until I saw him again in prison. I hated that you told me not to see him that night. I resented him for asking me to leave. And I resented myself for - for this disorder holding me back from being with him. I would’ve gone - totally fucking disappeared - if I knew I wouldn’t slow him down,” he paused and licked his dry lips before continuing. “I think about that a lot and - I mean, I know Mickey still thinks about Mexico, but I don’t know, shit worked out the way it’s supposed to. I’m not saying you should go after Jimmy-Steve or chase after an old dream, I’m just telling you that life works out - it works out in weird ways,” Ian said softly.

He listened to Fiona breath into the phone and he hoped that he got through to her. 

“Listen, you can always come home, we’re still here,” Ian said as he stepped off the train and began to short trek to the house.

“Yeah, I know, love you, sweet-face,”

“Love you, too,” Ian said and then she hung up the phone. He listened to the silence for a moment before he slid the device into his pocket. 

He made a mental note to give Mickey a big kiss on the lips when he saw him. Bigger than usual. The thought gave him a fuzzy feeling in his stomach as he thought about how he now had the ability to do that whenever he wanted. 

But the lingering effects of the conversation didn’t fade away, even when he arrived home and Mickey was there cooking dinner and complaining about the heat. 

He wondered if Mickey thought about Mexico. He wondered if he had any regrets. He wondered if they were ever going to talk about it.

* * *

Laying on the couch that evening, Ian was pleasantly leaning against Mickey who was cuddled into his side, despite the stickiness in the summer Chicago air. They were watching some horror movie with gory killings and depressing acting. Ian had his fingers buried in Mickey’s hair. His head was resting on Ian’s shoulder and Mickey’s fingers were playing with the ring on Ian’s finger. He was only half paying attention to the movie as he listened to Mickey’s breathing and the sounds of the movie. The house was quiet for once and Ian wanted to bask in it a little longer.

“Hey, uh, are we - are we free on Sunday afternoon?” Mickey asked edgily, moving his head from Ian’s shoulder to look at him..

Ian looked at him in surprise and considered the question. “Neither of us are working, so yeah, I guess,” he said pointedly because it tended to be the only day they both got off. They usually laid in bed all day and relaxed. Sometimes Mickey made pancakes. Mostly, Ian tried to do as little as humanly possible to leave their bed. A majority of the time was spent naked.

“It’s fucking stupid, but one of the - this guy in my class is having a barbecue. He invited us,” Mickey said thumbing at the area over his lip.

Ian smiled teasingly at him, “You got invited to a barbecue.” 

“ _ We _ got invited to a barbecue,” Mickey corrected.

“Are we supposed to take the kids or is it just us?” Ian asked, trying to wordlessly get Mickey to lay back down and continue cuddling with him.

Although, Mickey would never call it cuddling, even if Ian knew he enjoyed it. Instead, Mickey teased him for liking their cuddle time and pretended to be uninterested until Ian tried to pull away. Then he’d say, “don’t you want to continue with your gay touchy-feely shit, Gallagher?” And Ian would roll his eyes and pretend like it was such a hardship to prolong whatever it was he had to do to spend a little more time with Mickey. Although, it was never a hardship and Ian knew they were on the same page. Even if Mickey grumbled about how fucking gay cuddling was. Ian figured he’d eventually admit to enjoying it, whether that was in a year or 10, he didn’t care as long as he was able to do it all with him.

Mickey shrugged, “we could bring Liam and Franny, but I was also thinking Mandy could watch them.”

“Yeah if we can find her long enough to ask,” Ian muttered thinking about how little Mandy was actually around these days. While she did live here with them and she was helping out with Franny, she disappeared for odd hours at a time and avoided answering them when asked where she was. Mickey had shrugged it off because he wasn’t sure how to deal with it and Ian tried to ignore it, but it was progressively getting more and more suspicious.

Mickey ignored his comment and asked, “so what do you say, Firecroth, you wanna go?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ian said, attempting a bored voice, but at the smile on Mickey’s lips, he knew that he wasn’t buying it.

“So, uh, do you talk about me? To your classmates?” Ian asked as Mickey shifted closer to him and laid his head back on his shoulder. Ian sighed and ran his fingers through his black hair before resting his arm across Mickey’s shoulders and kissing his forehead. 

“No, I fucking do my work and listen to the teachers talk a lot. Struggle to not feel so overwhelmed most the time,” Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

Ian laughed,”but you like it?”

Mickey shrugged noncommittally, but Ian had learned long ago that was Mickey speak for ‘yes.’

“Cool,” Ian said quietly.

He turned back to the movie and smiled when he felt Mickey’s lips press against his cheek in a sweet kiss.

“They know I’m married, kinda hard to miss the ring,” Mickey admitted, knocking his knee.

Ian smiled as he looked down and saw the two rings that sat on his husband’s ring finger. He ran a finger along the hard edge and curled his fingers around Mickey’s hand.

“Good,” Ian said simply and he smiled wider when he saw the faint pinkness on Mickey’s cheeks.

Allowing his gaze to linger on him a bit longer, Ian opened his mouth to persuade Mickey to go upstairs when the back door slammed open and Carl came in with Liam and Franny running after them.

“Uncle Carl taught me how to do a karate chop!” Franny yelled in excitement and then  she proceeded to show them.

Mickey and Ian shifted their gaze to Carl who smirked and shrugged in response.

“She needs to know how to protect herself,” he said sitting down in the armchair.

Ian heard Mickey sigh and he felt the little spell of quiet burst as Franny began to  excitedly tell them what other moves Uncle Carl taught.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Ian reached out to cuddle closer to Mickey only to find his side of the bed empty and cold. He opened his eyes immediately to find their bedroom quiet and his husband nowhere in sight. As he lay there wondering where Mickey had gone off to, he heard the distant sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen. Figuring it was Mickey, he grabbed his phone and saw that it was 11am, which elicited a groan. He had been wanting some Sunday morning sex and ample cuddle time before they went over to this barbecue. Instead, Mickey had spoiled their plans for them. 

Rolling over, he tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use, especially when his alarm broke the silence to remind him to take his pills.

“Fuck,” he muttered and grabbed his meds on the bedside table. Taking his required dose, he slowly got out of bed and headed downstairs to find Mickey putting something in the oven.

“The fuck are you doing?” Ian whined coming up behind him and burying his face in his neck and placing a kiss on the soft skin. He breathed him in and considered how he could coax him to come back to bed. If only so he could give him a blow job to start off their Sunday the right way.

Mickey stiffened for a moment and then relaxed once he realized it was Ian. “The fuck does it look like? Baking, lazy-bones.”

Ian let out a small guffaw and pulled back to survey the kitchen, which was a mess from whatever Mickey was baking. 

“Why?” 

“The stupid fucking barbecue, everyone has to bring something. Fuckin’ dumb. I’d rather just give them some money and not have to waste my fucking Sunday morning baking brownies. What’s the point of bringing anything? To promote bonding or some shit?” Mickey muttered.

Ian smiled down at him, “we could’ve just grabbed already made brownies from Jewel.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and turned away to begin cleaning the kitchen. “Whatever, their brownies aren’t that good.”

Ian smiled at him fondly and leaned in for a quick kiss before beginning to help him clean up the kitchen. Once they were finished, he got out two bowls, milk, and some of Liam’s cereal for breakfast. He poured the sugary cereal into each bowl and deposited them on the table for them to eat.

“Mandy going to watch Liam and Franny?” Ian asked, eating a spoonful of cereal.

Mickey nodded, “yeah, said she’d watch them till eight, then she has somewhere to be.”

Ian raised his eyebrows, “where?”

He shrugged, “didn’t ask.”

Ian took another bite of cereal and chose not to push it. He was just grateful for any of the help she could offer. He hadn’t thought that taking care of Liam and Franny without Mickey’s help would be that bad, but while Carl was helpful and Lip pitched in, it was still difficult. Mickey’s schooling and working was taking a lot out of him and even though Ian knew it was good in the long run, it was difficult to pick up the slack while he was busy at work or school. Now all the two of them had were late evenings and Sundays. Even then it could be hard to find time for them. He hoped that it would get easier as time went on.

Once they were finished with breakfast, they headed to the bathroom to get ready for the barbecue. They decided to take a shower together to save on time and Ian had plans to take advantage of it since they hadn’t gotten the chance for morning sex due.

He turned on the shower to a lukewarm since it was already getting hot outside, they both stripped, and got in. He let out a loud yawn as Mickey stepped under the shower head and began to rinse himself. Ian grabbed his hips and caressed the now wet skin, loving how slick and soft he was against him. He stared down into his eyes and smiled when he saw the softness in his blue orbs. Leaning down to kiss him gently on the lips, he smiled when he heard the little hitch of Mickey’s breath right before their mouths met. That sound always went straight to his dick and now was no different as he felt the beginnings of arousal. This was how they should wake up every morning, he thought.

“You nervous for the barbecue?” Ian asked, pulling away slightly and taking him in hand, gently stroking Mickey’s cock. He watched Mickey close his eyes and bask in the cool shower or at least that’s what he thought until he heard the little puffs of accelerated breath escape from his mouth. He smiled at the effect he was having on his husband and he leaned in to kiss him again. Wrapping his other hand around his back, he rested it on the round globes of his ass, kneading the skin there.

He knew Mickey wasn’t a fan of social situations and while he’d gotten better in recent years - it probably helped that he was so drunk at their wedding - Ian still knew that being round strange people put him on edge. He was honestly a little surprised that he seemed to be so gungho about going today.

“No,” he heard him gasp out as Ian’s hand began to move faster. 

Ian made a ‘hm’ sound and moved his hand resting on Mickey’s ass further down to push at the opening of his hole. He wasn’t at the best angle, so there was some fumbling involved, but he was able to push his index finger until the first knuckle into the tight, wet opening. Slowly, he began to move it in and out, not wanting to go too deep since water was such a shitty lube and he was so taut. 

Mickey let out a little whimper at the intrusion, but it quickly turned to breathy moans. Looking down at his hand wrapped around his cock, Ian focused on his attention on the head to bring him more pleasure. He heard Mickey’s breath begin to quicken and he pressed his thumb against the underside of his cock, right near the head and rubbed the sticky precum along the skin there. 

“That feel good, Mick?” Ian muttered pushing his index finger a little deeper into his opening and moving his other hand faster over Mickey’s cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mickey mumbled and buried his head in the croak of Ian’s s houlder. He could feel the little puffs of breath on his skin and goosebumps began to rise along his arms.

“Come for me, Mick,” Ian coaxed curling his index finger until he found what he was looking for.

Mickey let out a long groan when he made contact and breathed out a soft ‘Ian’ before he stiffened and then he felt his dick begin to pulse as come shot out over Ian’s fist.

Slowly withdrawing his finger, Ian rinsed his hands under the shower head and looked at Mickey who was breathing hard with a gentle smile on his lips. 

Taking the bar of soap, he began to lather up Mickey’s skin, watching as the plains of paleness became sudsy and slippery. He started at his neck and slowly moved down, basking in his ability to do this whenever he wanted. 

“Fuck, that was good,” Mickey muttered once he got his breathe back. Ian gently turned him around to face the shower head so he could get his back. He made sure to be a little more attentive on his ass cheeks and grabbed a fist full to tug him into his hips. Ian leaned down and began to suck the expanse of his neck, moving up until he was right under his ear and kissing him right at that area that made goosebumps appear on Mickey’s skin.

“Missed you this morning,” Ian breathed as he tenderly pushed Mickey under the shower head to rinse off. He turned around to face Ian, his eyes closed and he watched as Mickey smiled at that. Closing his own eyes, he leaned in to kiss him. He prodded open Mickey’s lips with his eager tongue. In response, he licked into Ian’s own mouth. He could feel Mickey’s tongue exploring as they deepened the kiss. 

He felt Mickey’s hands on his hips, pulling him closer and their dicks rubbed together as he maneuvered Ian under the showerhead. Ian gasped as his hard cock brushed against Mickey’s. Gripping his husband’s ass, he pressed their hips together to replicate the motion. He began to massage his ass, pulling the skin apart and grabbing the soft globes in his hands. Suddenly, Mickey was pulling away a little and Ian opened his eyes to see he was grabbing the soap to lather up Ian.

He watched as Mickey began to wash his skin with the bar of soap, making sure to be attentive to every inch of him.

“You having fun, Gallagher?” Mickey asked, focusing on lathering up his abs.

“Feel like I should be asking you that,” Ian mumbled as Mickey’s hands went south. His soupy hands felt good on Ian’s hard cock as they moved up and down, making sure to massage his balls the way he knew Ian liked. Rinsing the soap away, Ian expected him to move down to his legs as he got onto his knees, but instead he surprised him by taking the head of his cock into his mouth.

Letting out a surprised sound at the contact, Ian ran his hands through Mickey’s dark  hair, resting his palm on the back of his head, careful not to push him. Mickey’s mouth began to move over his dick, the moist heat and the softness of his lips already causing Ian to feel the swirlings of pleasure fill his belly. One of Mickey’s soupy hands moved to grab at Ian’s ass and the other one went back to massaging his balls, causing Ian to let out a low moan. 

The suction of his hollowed out cheeks and the heat from Mickey’s mouth felt so good. He’d gotten a lot of blowjobs over the years, but Mickey’s were the best, the most memorable. It was the way his lips curled over his cock, the way he took him into his mouth so easily, how he used just the tiniest bit of teeth to graze over the skin to send shivers down his body. It was how he knew what gave Ian pleasure and where to grip him just right with his hands to maximize the feeling. He’d found most guys avoided the balls while giving a blowjob, but Mickey leaned into it and Ian fucking loved that. Mickey knew how to read his body and that’s what always pushed him over the edge.

He felt himself sink further and further over the threshold of pleasure. As he hit the back of Mickey’s throat, Ian knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, as embarrassing as that might be. But after years of being blown by Mickey - who was fucking amazing at giving blow jobs - he knew all the tricks to get him to come at an embarrassingly fast rate. 

With a soft pop, Mickey’s mouth was replaced by his hand as he stroked Ian faster. He pressed the head of his cock against his closed lips. Slowly, Mickey pushed his hard length back into his mouth and suctioned out his cheeks as he focused his attention on the most sensitive area.

“Shit, Mick, like that, you - fuck, you do that so fucking well. The best. You’re the best,” Ian rasped out, knowing Mickey enjoyed hearing words of encouragement. He liked giving him those compliments, he liked the way his cheeks heated up and the bashfulness that always overcame him when Ian laid praise on him.

At his words, Mickey’s took him all the way into his mouth and went a little faster and Ian’s vision began to black out at the edges as he cupped his balls with one hand and gripped his ass with the other. 

He grabbed Mickey’s shoulder with one hand as he tugged at his hair with the other one, needing something to hold onto as he felt the swell of pleasure overcome him. He let out a steady stream of ‘fuck’ and ‘Mick’ as his dick began to pulse and he came into Mickey’s mouth. 

Standing up as Ian struggled to get back his breath, Mickey smirked at him before giving him a soft kiss and finishing up lathering him up. Quickly washing their hair, they finished up their shower with soft touches and kisses.

* * *

It was while they were getting dressed that Ian remembered the conversation he’d had with Fiona a few days earlier. He’d meant to bring it up when he’d gotten home that day, but Mickey was already in an irritated mood from some homework assignment he had to finish.

“Talked to Fiona a few days ago,” Ian said, watching as Mickey slid on a Hawaiian shirt.

Mickey glanced at him and shrugged, “yeah? How’s she doing?”

Ian shrugged, “asked me for relationship advice.”

Mickey snorted and began to comb his hair in the small mirror he had hung on the wall. “You a relationship guru now? Figured Lip helped with that shit.”

“Asked me if she should go after an ex,” he said watching Mickey comb his hair. 

He stopped and turned around to face Ian with raised eyebrows, “what’d you say?”

Ian bit his lip as he considered the question. “Asked her if she loved him.”

Mickey turned to him with raised his eyebrows in response and Ian smiled slightly at the exasperated look on his face.

“It’s Jimmy-Steve she ran into,” he added when Mickey didn’t respond. 

“Which one was that?”

“The Viagriod’s son.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and went back to grooming himself.

“You ever think about Mexico? Ever regret coming back?” Ian asked quietly. What he’d told Fiona was still swirling around in his head. He’d had a lot of regrets during the years, but leaving Mickey at the boarder was a big one. Even if it all worked out in the end. He’d always known if he didn’t have this fucking disease he would’ve went with him in a heartbeat. He would’ve left everything and everyone behind just to be with the man he loved. Maybe that’s why he fell so far when he got back, he mused. Knowing he had nothing to lose now that he had lost two of the most important people in his life - his mom and Mickey. He’d never see either of them again, or so he thought, and he was lost in his own grievances. It was just easier to say ‘fuck it to everything’ and embrace the mania than huddle in his own grief. At least in the mania he was able to block out the hurt and sadness he felt, whereas the depression...he doubted he would’ve ever come out of that black hole.

Mickey stopped his ministrations and looked in the mirror at Ian.

“What kind of dumb fucking question is that?”

Ian shrugged, “just curious. I mean, there’s still a lot we haven’t talked about and--”

“And we have the rest of our lives to talk about shit we did while we were apart. Right now I don’t want to fight before a fucking barbecue,” Mickey said finishing up with his appearance before turning to Ian.

“Why would it cause a fight?” Ian asked curiously.

“Cause I don’t want to talk about Mexico with you.”

“How come?”

“Cause I just don’t. It’s a time in my life - I just don’t okay.”

“Did something hap--”

Mickey turned to him with hard eyes and said, “do you want to talk about your Gay Jesus shit?”

“I mean I would if you wanted--”

“Well I don’t. So drop it,” Mickey grumbled.

Ian stared at him. He took in the tenseness of his shoulders, the scowl on his face, the hard look in his eyes and decided to stop pushing. It wasn’t worth having a fight before they went out, but he wanted to know about the missing years while they were apart. He recognized that the time wasn’t now though. Sliding off the bed, he wrapped his arms around him. At first, Mickey was stiff against him and then seemed to relax as Ian dropped kisses along his shoulders and on his neck.

“I love you,” Ian said quietly.

Mickey sighed and cupped the back of his head to pull him closer. “Love you too, now come on, don’t wanna be late.”


	8. I Wanna Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian go to a bbq. Mickey talks to Mandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read this little story. Thanks to those who have left comments. And thanks to those who have kudoed or bookmarked this fic. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it! I had a little extra time this week, so I figured I'd update early. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Leave a comment, I'd appreciate the feedback! :)

_ “I wanna know you _

_ Ghost _

_ I wanna touch you _

_ Ghost _

_ I wanna feel you _

_ Ghost” _

_ ~”Ghost” The Acid _

* * *

The train ride toward Brighton Park where Mickey’s classmate lived was pretty quiet. Mickey had made Ian carry the brownies since he’d made them and besides an incident when some idiot had knocked into his husband on the train and he’d almost dropped them, it was a pretty uneventful ride. They walked the short distance from the bus stop to the address Javiar had given Mickey, taking in the subtle differences in this neighborhood versus their own.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been out this way,” Ian muttered as they passed a group of men lingering outside of a house. Mickey could see 40s in brown paper bags in their hands.

“Really? Pops used to come out this way to pick up PCP,” Mickey mused as all the times his father had made him come with him to ‘learn the family business’ filtered through his mind. A few streets away he’d been made to stand outside and be the lookout in case the Chicago pigs decided to come down this way.

“What a lovely childhood memory,” Ian said in that tone that most people weren’t able to tell if he was joking or not. 

Mickey knew though, he always knew.

He shrugged and gave him a saucy grin, “as opposed to the years you spent living out of cars? At least I’ve always lived in the Milkovich House of Horrors.”

Ian rolled his eyes, “we lived out of a car for one year. That was it. And there were less of us. Although, there was the year we lived out of a van after Debs was born…”

Mickey shook his head at that, “living out of a car sounds like one of those circles of hell.”

Ian elbowed him awkwardly since he was still holding the brownies, “yeah cause our cellmate life was so fucking perfect.”

Mickey shrugged, “at least there are beds in prison.”

“True.”

They neared the address in Mickey’s phone and the nerves in his stomach doubled as he began to think of all the small talk he was going to be forced to do. But Javiar had nagged him endlessly to come to this thing and he had Ian with him, so it wouldn’t be too bad. 

He thought about the time Ian had dragged him to some guy’s house on the Northside. Some rich asshole he’d met at that fucking club he’d worked at. (Mickey seriously hated that club and he’d told Ian that repeatedly in prison.)

They’d stayed the night at the asshole’s house on the most comfortable pullout Mickey had ever slept on. Ian had snagged it for them as everyone paired off and went into different rooms. He tried not to think about how Ian could easily have been one of those people while he was gone. 

He’d remembered the beers weren’t half bad, although he’d learned he hated IPAs that night. Ian had laughed at him when he’d nearly spit up the hoppy beer. While he hated talking to all those pricks, it was still a pleasant memory. 

Waking up next to Ian for the third time ever had been nice (beyond nice). And maybe Mickey wasn’t as intune or whatever with his feelings back then, he did know seeing Ian with the rays of the Chicago winter sun casting a glow on his pale skin and the calm look on his features made his heart do weird things. 

It also solidified Mickey’s desire to stay with him.

All the time.

They’d barely gone without seeing each other since Mickey had brought Ian home and he knew most people probably thought it was because of the redhead’s increasingly strange behavior, but it was a lot more than that. It was the simple fact that Mickey didn’t want to leave him and he knew Ian felt the same. A part of him may have been afraid of what could happen if he left him, like he’d disappear or leave him again. If he was being honest, it was still a fear he had, not so much lately, but sometimes he’d dream he was still in Mexico, that lonely hole eating away at him as he thought of Ian back in Chicago with his  _ boyfriend _ . 

That morning had been calm, and for the first time in his life, he realized they could have this  _ every _ morning. It was a strange realization to have, that he could be free with Ian. That they could be together without judgement.

And now here he was…going to a fucking bbq with his  _ husband _ . 

“Should we come up with a code word to leave whenever we want to?” Ian asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Mickey glanced at him and smirked, “I mean, probably wouldn’t hurt. Who knows this whole thing may suck.”

Ian gave him a ‘come on’ look and they walked up the front steps of the address. Mickey tried to stop himself from fidgeting, but when Ian reached out a hand to lay on his shoulder, he knew he wasn’t doing a great job. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to go to this thing when he hated interacting with people 90% of the time.

Javiar was a cool dude and he didn’t live that far from them. It seemed like a good idea at the time, especially since it gave them a reason to get out of the house and away from the Gallagher craziness. 

Besides Ian, he’d never really had friends outside of prison or his family. In prison or in the cartel, it was just mandatory you had people watching your back. Without, you’d be dead. Mickey was fine in those types of situations, but barbecues with classmates from vocational school just - well it sounded like something from an alternative universe. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but Ian, with his dopey grin, holding the brownies and wearing a t-shirt and jeans looked exactly like he belonged at the neighborhood barbecue.

Sometimes Mickey couldn’t decide if that made him envious or proud. 

“It’ll be fine,” Ian said, quietly and Mickey wondered how anxious he must seem to him. He leaned in and said lowly, “you look great, by the way. I like that color with your eyes.” 

Mickey felt the heat rise and spread across his face. He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. Looking down at the front step, Ian nudged him again and he looked up to see that dopey grin on his husband’s face.

“C’mon,” he mumbled and then reached forward and knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately and an older hispanic woman smiled at them. She was dressed in a long pink dress and her hair was pinned in a loose bun. There were wrinkles around her eyes that increased when her mouth spread into a large grin as she looked upon their faces. Mickey felt himself relax a little and glanced over at Ian who already had on his charming smile he reserved for all old women. Mickey would’ve rolled his eyes, if he wasn’t a little beguiled by him too.

“Are you friends of Javiar?” she asked with an excited shine in her eyes.

Ian nodded and answered for them, “yeah, this is Mickey and I’m Ian.”

She waved them in and took the brownies from Ian as they stepped over the threshold. Mickey looked around the tiny house and saw how packed it was with pictures of children and artwork. He spied one of Javiar over the mantel with two other men and the woman who was in front of them. 

“Everyone is in the back, there’s beer in the fridge and the food is in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever you want,” she said ushering them further into the house.

“Javi is so excited that you’re here. He’s really been enjoying the training school so far. You know, this is his second degree he’s started and I think this one is really going to stick. Last time it was food sanitation and while it pays more, there’s so much you must learn. Oh! I’m Anita, by the way,” she rambled and led them through the tiny house. Mickey took in the small living room, the even smaller kitchen and then the large backyard where there was already an assembly of families.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Ian said and nudged Mickey who had fallen silent as he took in the little house that was so much more full of warmth than his own childhood home. The vibe reminded him more of Ian’s house (now his too); it seemed to breathe family. It made him feel out of his depth, but with a grin from his husband, he swallowed that feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be here and addressed the older woman.

“Yeah, yeah, Javiar is pretty - he’s cool,” Mickey said smiling when she handed them two Coronas. He passed one of them to Ian after he opened it.

“I’m happy he’s making friends. I’m his mother, so I tend to worry,” Anita said, giving them a sheepish look.

Ian smiled widely at that, “someone has to, right?”

She nodded, “yes, yes. So Javi mentioned you, Mickey, but I don’t remember him mentioning an Ian, are you also in the Intro to Plumbing class?”

“Oh, no, I’m, uh,” Ian swallowed and looked at Mickey. He raised his eyebrows at him and waited to see how he described himself. They were legally husbands and everyone they fucked with knew they were husbands, but this was the first time they were interacting with someone who was outside of their usual realm. He was a little curious to know how this woman, who was probably very Catholic based on the large crucifixes on the wall would react to having two gay men in her house. But he reminded himself that when he’d mentioned how he had a husband, the one and only time to Javiar, he seemed chill with it. And he should know better than anyone that just because someone seemed to be a certain way, it didn’t mean they matched the assumptions. She probably wasn’t going to kick them out of her house, but Mickey’s eyes kept going toward the large crucifix on the wall of the living room.

“We’re married,” Mickey said, butting in when Ian continued to look at him as if asking permission to tell her. 

He looked at Anita and waited for her to tell them to leave. But instead, her eyes widened and then she surprised him by smiling, “oh! I’ve never - well,  _ welcome _ ! How long have you been married for?”

Mickey glanced at Ian to find him looking amused and he tentatively smiled at how taken aback she seemed at hearing they were married.

“Uh, almost six months,” Ian said and she grinned even wider.

“Newlyweds! It’s a nice time. Javi’s father and I were crazy about each other during that time. I’ll never forget this one time--”

“Mickey! You made it!” 

Mickey turned around to see two of his other classmates, Johnny and Katie, came into the house. They walked over to the three of them and Mickey greeted them with an eyeroll and a smirk. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him and a balloon of pride blossomed in his chest as he showed off his husband to people who weren’t related to them nor knew them in prison, it was an odd feeling. He vaguely wondered if this was how Ian felt when he had introduced him to those douchebags in that loft apartment on the Northside all those years ago or even to his ex-coworkers who they’d ran into a few months back.

“Ian, this is Johnny and Katie,” he said, bringing his thumb to his area above his eyebrow to rub at a non-existent itch. Ian moved a little closer to Mickey and reached out a hand to shake theirs.

“Ian,” he said, getting a grin in return from both of them.

“It’s nice to meet you, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Katie said. Johnny echoed the sentiment.

“And here he told me he never talked about me,” Ian said looking at Mickey with amusement.

“Katie brought her wife, so you don’t have to feel alone,” Anita chimed in, clapping her hands together and smiling at them.

Ian laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, which clued Mickey in to the fact he wasn’t the only one a little nervous around all these new people. Mickey felt a surge of calm flow through him as he realized not for the first time they were on the same level. He watched as Ian looked at Katie and he felt the sudden overwhelming urge to reach out to touch him. He settled for subtly brushing their hands together, but Ian’s gaze moved from Katie to him and he smiled softly at him.

“She’s outside,” she said nodding toward the windows and reaching over Anita to grab a carrot from a plate of cut up vegetables.

“Thank you again for doing this, Anita,” Katie added, filling her plate with some of the food on the table and smiling at the woman.

Anita blushed and waved them off. “It’s nice having people over, it’s been awhile since there’s been something to celebrate. Now go outside, enjoy your time together.”

“Do you need any help?” Ian asked and Mickey rolled his eyes at his need to always be so fucking helpful.

He enjoyed watching his husband be helpful though, even if sometimes it got in the way of their plans. Like right now when he wanted to go relax in someone else’s backyard, eat food other people prepared, and drink beer he didn’t have to buy.

“No, no, everything is already, go enjoy yourself! I’ll be out soon,” she said.

Ian shrugged and turned to Mickey who started loading up a plate. He joined him and they headed outside where there were more people. When they entered the backyard, they were immediately called over to the grill to a group of guys. 

“Mickey, you came,” Javiar said working the grill.

“Yeah, said I would,” Mickey grumbled. He turned to Ian and pointed to each of the men as he introduced them, “Javiar, Benji, Charlie, and Desmond.” 

Ian nodded at each one since his hands were full with beer and food. “Thanks for having us.” 

Javiar shrugged, “it’s the Fourth of July, seemed like it was good timing. Plus, we made it through the first fucking month. Fuck, safety manuals and fucking OSHA.”

“So much fucking reading about safety measures,” Desmond said shaking his head.

“You’d be surprised how much there is to learn about the proper way of handling a pipe,” Mickey muttered and Ian grinned.

“What do you do, Ian?” Charlie asked.

“He was an EMT,” Mickey said knowing full well there was a bragging note to his tone. He glanced at Ian to see him wearing a perfunctory smile and a drop of guilt formed as he thought about how Ian was still struggling with not getting his job back. He was still helping people, just in a different way. However, Mickey knew he missed the excitement and his old colleagues. For his own selfish reasons, he hoped Ian didn’t have the opportunity of going back to being an EMT. He knew he should root him on or whatever, but the days were long, Ian could get hurt, he’d have to work nights which could mess with his bipolar, they were barely seeing each other as is… But Mickey wouldn’t tell him that. Regardless, he was still proud of him for working so hard to make something of himself. Mickey just hoped he’d be able to do the same to make Ian proud.

“I’m working at a nonprofit, office admin now,” he said.

“Fancy,” Benji said.

“Why aren’t you an EMT anymore?” Desmond asked and Mickey tried to stop himself from scowling too much at the question. 

_ Fucking Desmond always had to know more than someone was willing to give.  _

Ian glanced at Mickey and he shrugged in response. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell them about prison, but if Ian wanted to, that was on him. He’d strategically avoided relying he was in prison to anyone at the institute.

“Prison,” he said uncomfortably.

Javiar looked up from where he was flipping the burgers, “no shit, where at?”

“We were at Beckman,” Mickey said, eventually when Ian didn’t immediately answer.

“Really? Got a brother in there,” Javiar mused.

“What were you in there for?” Benji asked curiously.

“Shit, man, don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask that. It’s their fucking business,” Javiar said rolling his eyes.

“I was curious! He doesn’t look like he’d do anything to land himself in prison, Mickey on the other hand--”

“Hey man, watch it,” Mickey snipped and out of the corner of his eye saw Ian smile slightly.

“So is that how you met?” Javiar asked, glancing between them. “Thought ex-cons couldn’t socialize or whatever with each other.”

“No, we, uh, grew up together I guess. We’ve known each other for a long time,” Ian said setting his beer down near the grill and taking a bite of the potato salad. 

“Damn, you’ve been together that long? Longest relationship I’ve ever had was like three years and that bitch was cheating on me for two of them,” Charlie mused.

Javiar laughed, “Mine was four years, but I was cheating for all of them.”

“Same, man,” Desmond said.

“Wait, you’re together?” Benji asked confused, “Mickey,  _ this _ is who you’re married to? I didn’t realize you were gay.”

Mickey stiffened at Benji’s question and Ian opened his mouth to intervene, but he beat him to it.

“You jealous, Williamson? He’s pretty hot, dontchu think?” 

The other three laughed and Benji shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean - I’m just surprised,” Benji said quietly.

“Whatever, yeah, this is my husband,” Mickey said nodding to Ian. 

Ian smiled when he caught Mickey’s eye and he felt himself relax a little more. They talked to the four of them a bit longer before they decided to sit down at one of the picnic tables that were set up on the lawn. Ian had almost dropped his plate twice, so they didn’t want to continue balancing their food. They ended up at the table with Katie and her wife, who was named Jasmine, mostly because there were no kids there. Mickey listened to Ian enjoy a long conversation with Jasmine about healthcare after finding out she was a nurse.

For his part, Mickey hadn’t really taken the time to get to know Katie, besides what he’d observed such as the fact she was one of three women in the class and was a lesbian (which he’d learned today). However because they had one thing in common (make that two), he kept the conversation solely to class and bitching about their summer project they needed to finish by the end of August.

“I was kinda nervous to come to this thing,” Katie admitted quietly when there was a lull in the conversation.

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed, sipping his beer.

She shrugged, “you know how people can be about - you know when you’re not -  _ you know _ .” 

Mickey glanced at her, “I just fucking hate social situations.”

Katie laughed, “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Mickey gave her a playful look and she grinned turning to look at their spouses who were talking animatedly.

“He seems nice,” she said nodding to Ian.

“He’s okay,” Mickey said, smirking slightly.

Ian looked up then as if sensing they were talking about them and he grinned at Mickey before saying something back to Jasmine. 

Later, as they walked home, Mickey was surprised they didn’t need to use the code word to leave early. It made him smile.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked Lip as he came into the kitchen early the next morning. His days were starting earlier now that he had to be at the vocational school by 9am. It sucked, but he was able to get a few minutes of alone time and get back at Ian for all the times he watched him sleep. 

Lip shrugged and sipped at the cup of coffee he evidently made with the grounds Mickey had just bought a few days ago. “There’s more in the pot.”

Mickey grunted in response and poured himself a cup before grabbing some cereal for breakfast. He wasn’t in the mood to make a real meal now that he was up so early. He’d left that job to Ian or Carl if they were unlucky enough to put up with his cooking.

“I slept on the couch,” Lip admitted after a lengthy pause.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee without comment. 

“Tami was getting on me, well, when doesn’t she get on me,” he added a note of misery in his voice.

“What’s up?” Mickey asked not particularly in the mood to hear the tale of woe between Tami and Lip, but he was here now and had a few minutes before he had to leave.

There always seemed to be something with those two. Whether it was Lip not working hard enough to move them out of their trailer or Tami hounding him for spending too much time with his family, there was some (a lot) shit lingering between them. 

Once, Mickey heard them fighting about how they hadn’t had sex in two months and he’d shivered at that, knowing full well even in the busiest of times Ian and him had only gone a two weeks without sex. And that was only cause they were getting used to a new routine or Ian was going through a low episode. But also sex with Ian was unlike anything Mickey had ever experienced. He highly doubted sex with Lip was some magical experience. Or Tami for that matter. He cringed at that thought.

Last he heard, they were supposed to move into their apartment - or maybe they had, Mickey couldn’t keep track - but there was a cockroach infestation, so they moved back into the trailer. Right now they have to fumigate, but they don’t have the money for it.

“She’s tired of living in the trailer. Is talking about Milwaukee again,” he said rubbing a hand across his face.

Mickey was just noticing how tired he looked and he felt badly for the guy. He remembered those long nights with Yev screaming and screaming - not that he did much about it, but he remembered how tired Svetlana had been. He figured it didn’t help to be tied to someone he wanted very little to do with, which he could also understand. While Svet and him had come to an understanding  _ eventually _ , she was still a pain in the ass. Especially when Ian took Yev and she’d kicked him out after his diagnosis. 

Even though it was his fucking house.

While it seemed like Tami and Lip were trying more than he or Svetlana ever had, he didn’t see a lot of love between them. But who was he to judge other people’s relationships? Not when he knew how much shit went on behind the scenes.

“You gonna go?” Mickey asked curiously. He was more curious for Ian’s sake since he knew he’d miss him and things were starting to get a little more settled around here. Also, Mickey knew Lip was helping out a lot with Franny. Without that extra help, Mickey knew more would fall onto Ian. He hoped they’d leave after Debs got out of prison. At least that way their sole focus would be Liam.

He shook his head slightly as he realized how he’d gone from worrying about himself, to Ian, and now to the rest of the Gallagher brood. He wasn’t sure who he’d become, but he knew his teen self would’ve fucking kicked his ass.

“I already told her I didn’t want to,” Lip mumbled and then he shook his head and let out a dark laugh. “Sorry, just realized who I was talking to. You don’t give a shit about this, do you?”

Mickey shrugged and sipped his coffee, “I give a shit cause I know Ian will give a shit.”

Lip smirked at him, “Ian give a shit about what you give a shit about?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes at him and sat back in his chair, thinking about the question. He shrugged, “probably, but I don’t give a shit about much.”

The kitchen fell silent for a long moment and then Lip glanced at him nervously. “What’s up with Mandy? Why she around again?”

Mickey looked at him carefully, but he only saw sincer curiosity. Still, he didn’t want his sister getting mixed up in the shitshow that was Tami and Lip. It would be Karen-Mandy-Lip all over again. Curling his lip in annoyance, he said, “stay away from her.”

“Chill, man, I was just asking how she’s been.”

“She’s...I don’t know man.”

“She came home around 5am this morning.”

“Thanks for keeping tabs on her,” Mickey mocked.

Lip scowled, “just figured if it was my sister I’d--”

“Mandy is fine, drop it,” Mickey snapped.

Lip held his hands up in a surrender gesture and Mickey sighed and relented.

“I don’t know. She’s helping watch Franny during the day, but I gotta talk to her. I think she’s...I think some shit went down with a guy and she’s probably doing some shady shit,” Mickey said reluctantly.

Lip nodded.

“Ian told me she was hooking after she left Kenyatta,” Mickey added quietly.

Lip raised his eyebrows and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “At least she left that douchebag.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Mickey snapped.

Lip rolled his eyes, “shit was a long time ago.”

“Mandy doesn’t really care about people, but for some reason she thought you were someone she should give a shit about. I don’t know the whole story with you guys, but I know she was...” Mickey trailed off not sure how to finish the sentence. He wanted to threaten Lip, but was there really a point when it had been so many years? Shit worked out the way it had and there wasn’t anything Mickey could do about it, but he could help his sister now, at least figure out what she was up to. Maybe give her some money if she needed it, not that they had much. What little they had of their savings was being redirected to his schooling. He’d tried to put some of it away for a real honeymoon, but both he and Ian knew they’d have to start saving again to be able to afford going somewhere nice. Mickey was thinking the beach, even if his husband did burn like a motherfucker.

Lip was quiet at that and Mickey watched as he sipped his coffee.

“I do regret how I handled shit back then,” Lip admitted.

Mickey shrugged in response and glanced at the clock on the wall to see how much time he had left before catching the bus. But Lip seemed to have other ideas to pull him back into a conversation because he tapped the surface of the table and leaned forward.

“What’s the secret?” he asked conspiratorially.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him. “What? The fuck you talking about?”

“You know, the secret to relationships or whatever. Ian and you--”

“Jesus.”

“You guys just seem to  _ get it _ .”

Mickey stood up from the table and went to rinse his empty coffee mug out before grabbing his bag and beginning to get ready to leave.

“You Gallaghers…” Mickey trailed off as he checked to make sure he had his books and notebook before leaving.

“You always made Ian crazy, you know. I never really - I don’t get that feeling, that I’d-do-anything-for-you feeling,” Lip mused.

Mickey turned to him and rolled his eyes, “I fucking don’t know. There is no secret. It’s just... _ there _ , man. I bet it’s different for everyone.”

Lip narrowed his eyes at him, “you can’t tell me you don’t know why you love Ian or why you do crazy fucking shit--”

“The simple answer is that I love him. The long answer is that I don’t want to have this fucking conversation with you.”

Lip smirked, “too gay even for you?”

Mickey glared at him, “the fuck ever. Fine. He just gets it, okay. That’s it. Find someone who fucking gets it. That’s my fucking advice.”

He watched as Lip looked at him in confusion. He shot him a glare and tossed his bag over his shoulder before advancing toward the door.

“That’s your fucking advice?” Lip called out as he walked over the threshold.

“That’s my fucking advice,” Mickey returned before finally getting out of that conversation.

* * *

The last thing Mickey wanted to deal with when he got home that night was a noisy Gallagher house. He’d had a long day at school learning more about fucking safety precautions and then picked up the last work shift where he had to deal with some elderly woman who had Dementia and somehow found her way into the store talking about aliens or some shit, which meant he was getting home late. All he wanted was a beer, cuddling up next to Ian (although, he didn’t call it cuddles), and the burritos he knew the redhead had gotten from that place they liked. 

That was it. 

He certainly didn’t expect to see his cousin or his sister sitting in the living room watching some sci-fi movie with Franny passed out on the armchair and Carl sitting on the stairs texting on his phone. Liam was laying on the floor with a pillow watching in muted horror at what was going on, on the screen.

“Movie night?” Mickey asked sardonically.

“Sandy’s pick,” Liam said looking away from the TV as some woman stabbed a giant alien looking thing.

“Where’s  _ my _ alien-looking motherfucker?” Mickey asked, stifling a yawn as he headed into the kitchen.

“Upstairs, says your dinner is in the fridge,” Carl said standing up suddenly and walking with him into the kitchen. “Gotta go, be back later,” he said at Mickey’s curious look.

Mickey nodded, he grabbed his burrito and tossed it into the microwave. While it heated up, he went back into the living room and gathered up Franny in his arms before heading upstairs to tuck her in. He was glad she was out like a light. Since Mandy had moved into Debbie’s room, she’d been sleeping a little better, but she still woke up occasionally with nightmares. Her new thing was waking up early and going to sit on the couch as if expecting her mother to return home from a late night out, but there was less crying, for the most part, which he was thankful for.

After depositing Franny in her bed, he went toward his own room to find Ian laying across the mattress reading a book.

“Hey,” Mickey said, popping his head in and giving him a small smile.

“Hey,” Ian said, putting his book down and yawning. 

“How was your day?” Mickey asked, coming further into the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Ian sat up and reached over to wrap an arm around his waist. Ian rested his chin on Mickey’s shoulder and he could hear the little sniffles as he breathed him in. Smiling softly at the noise, he considered making fun of him for his weird scent obsession, but he was too tired. Instead, he tilted his head to give him a light kiss on the nose before relaxing into Ian’s embrace.

“Long, got a headache,” Ian muttered, rubbing his head against Mickey’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Mickey asked curiously.

He sighed and nosed Mickey’s t-shirt. “There was a fight with some teens. These three kids got into it,” he laughed softly, “figured I had seen the end of patching up people when I moved away from EMT work, but I guess not…”

Mickey squirmed in his embrace to look at him fully in the face. “What happened?” he asked again.

“Oh you know, lies, cheating, teen hormones. Normal shit,” Ian said, yawning again.

The room filled up with silence as Mickey leaned into Ian’s arms. He wrapped his hands around Ian’s and felt the heaviness of his ring press against his skin. He looked down at their entwined hands, their rings glinting up at him and he smiled slightly at the sight. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing it.

“You like it?” Mickey asked quietly, afraid of the answer. Ian had loved being an EMT and now he was subjected to office admin work. To Mickey, it sounded boring, but he was also working with teens who had been just like back in the day. Well, maybe not exactly like them, but they were confused about the path life had laid out for them and Mickey could relate to that. He knew Ian could too. Still though, Mickey knew how much he enjoyed the EMT work and wished his husband would find passion again in his line of work.

Ian shrugged, “I like feeling like I’m helping.”

Mickey smirked, “of course you do. You’re Ian Gallagher, the savior of the fucking u nderdog. The leader of the under represented.”

Ian snorted and pulled him in for another gentle kiss. Mickey tightened his hold on Ian’s  hands, their rings digging into his skin in a pleasant fashion - a reminder of what they were to each other now.

Ian pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against Mickey’s. “What about you?”

It took Mickey a moment to realize what he was asking, his mind hazy with the need to  touch Ian again. He leaned in and gave him one, two, three small kisses on his lips before answering. “Long, I’m gonna eat dinner. You gonna stay here?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Ian said.

He nodded and moved back a little to catch Ian’s lips in a another chaste kiss before  getting up and heading downstairs to eat his burrito. He took his burrito into the living room and pushed Mandy into Sandy to make room for him.

“Douchebag,” Mandy muttered, rolling her eyes as she settled into her new middle position.

“It’s my house,” Mickey snipped, taking a bite of the burrito.

“This is an awful movie,” Liam muttered, turning to look at Sandy. “Why did you choose it?”

“Alien is a classic,” Sandy said, shaking her head. “Knew I was a lesbian when I saw the main chick turn badass and kill the alien.”

Liam raised his eyebrows at her and then sighed heavily in that old man way Mickey chastised him for. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered and then got up and headed upstairs. 

“Night man,” Mickey said, watching him for a moment before getting up and going toward the armchair to give Sandy and Mandy more room.

“Coulda just sat there in the beginning,” Mandy muttered.

Mickey flicked her off and continued eating his burrito. He eyed Mandy who was focused on the TV. His conversation with Lip materializing in his head as he wondered exactly what his sister was getting up to. Why had she come home at 5am? What had she been up to since the got home? Should he be worried? He knew Ian was. Would now be a good time to bring it up? Sandy was here and she could back him up if Mandy got...well,  _ Mandy _ .

“Mandy, you ain’t going out tonight?” he asked watching her as she stiffened and glanced over at him.

“Tired,” she said.

“Cause you got home at 5am this morning?” Mickey asked before taking a bite.

Sandy looked at him with a pointed expression that clearly said ‘why the fuck do you have to do this while I’m here?’

“Lip tell you that?” Mandy asked, glaring at him.

Mickey shrugged and took the last bite of his burrito before wiping his mouth and putting the plate on the floor. “What have you been doing?”

Mandy huffed and looked back at the TV. He looked at Sandy who was shaking her head subtly and he raised his eyebrows in response as if to say ‘what?’

“Why is it any of your business?” Mandy asked finally.

“Cause you’re my sister. And Ian’s worried,” Mickey said casually. “And we’re both ex-cons, so if you’re doing hard drugs--”

“Jesus, Mick, I’m just saving money to leave. I’m - I’ve been sleeping with - I’m a hooker, okay!” Mandy snapped.

Sandy and Mickey stared at her and she let out an annoyed noise.

“It’s not a big deal! I have nothing to be ashamed for--”

“No,” Mickey agreed, “as long as you’re being careful...”

Mandy gritted her teeth, “I’m not an idiot. I can take care of myself,” she paused. “I was working for this guy--”

“A pimp.”

“Whatever, he was nice in the beginning. But he...wasn’t nice toward the end. It’s not a big deal. I needed to leave there and I need money, so it’s just easier this way,” Mandy said.

Sandy and Mickey didn’t speak for a few minutes, until Mandy glared at both of them, swishing her head back and forth to make sure her cousin and brother got the full brute of her glare.

“I just needed somewhere to lay low. He may - he might be looking for me. Wanted to get away,” she said softly and then turned to Mickey with hard eyes, “that fucking alright with you?”

Mickey held up his hands in a surrender motion, “you know if he comes after you, we’ll--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes, but he saw a little smile resting there.

“That makes three of us,” Sandy said, nudging her cousin.

Mandy frowned, “three?”

“Ian and Mickey are kinda a packaged deal,” Sandy said smirking at Mickey who scoffed at her.

“We’re married,” Mickey sniffed.

“Yeah, yeah, we fuckin’ know,” Mandy said smirking. They turned back to the movie to watch the remaining 10 minutes before Mickey headed upstairs with a glass of water for Ian. As he walked up the stairs, he heard Mandy ask about Debs and he wondered how the three of them had gotten so mixed up with the Gallaghers. 


	9. We Found A Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian grocery shop. Ian gets jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I meant to get this up earlier, but I've been finishing my edits for GW2020. I'm writing two fics for Best Friends and Domestic, so check them out next week. 
> 
> On another more important note, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this little fic. This was a pretty intense chapter to write. It's emotional, just a heads up. It was difficult to find that fine line between Ian and Mickey talking and not talking, which they are so good at. So I hope you guys like it! Again thank you to everyone who is reading this fic and taking the time to comment or kudo or bookmark. I truly appreciate it! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter.
> 
> A new update should be next thurs, I have some RL stuff to do, but I'm shooting for Thurs/friday. And again check out the GW2020 fics. I'm super excited.

_ “It was you who picked _

_ The pieces up _

_ When I was a broken soul _

_ And then glued me _

_ Back together _

_ Returned to me what _

_ Others stole _

_ I don’t want to hurt you _

_ I don’t want to make you sway _

_ Like I know I’ve done before _

_ I will not do it anymore” _

_ ~”Sway” by The Perishers _

* * *

“Did you get the carrots?” 

As an answer, Ian tossed a bundle of carrots into their shopping cart and then a bag of cucumbers he’d grabbed per his husband’s request.

“Can you go back and grab onions? I only got the purple ones and I need those other ones too,” Mickey said tapping out something on his phone.

Ian huffed, “you couldn’t have told me when I was just over there?”

Mickey glanced up at him and glared, “if you hadn’t forgotten your phone at home, maybe I would’ve been able to call you to let you know.”

Ian opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when Mickey gave him the raised-eyebrows-and-lower-lip-bite look. He’d gotten to know that look pretty well when they were planning their wedding and Ian was doing something that Mickey didn’t agree with. He secretly called the expression his Chivari Chairs Look, so instead of arguing, he closed his mouth and took a deep breath.

“Which onions?”

“Normal fucking onions, whatever they’re called - Spanish, I think.”

“Anything else?”

Mickey cast him a suspicious look and then looked back at his phone. “I guess celery, Liam, wants it.”

Ian nodded and made his way back to the produce section of the grocery store. He stopped and grabbed some onions, the celery, and then he began to make his way back to the dairy section where he’d left Mickey. 

However, when he got to the diary section, Mickey was nowhere in sight. He went to reach for his phone, but remembered he’d left it at home. 

Internally chastising himself for being so forgetful, he began to walk around the store aimlessly until he spotted Mickey in the spice aisle. Tossing the vegetables in the cart, he leaned against the metal trolley and waited as Mickey sifted through the spices.

“What are you looking for?” Ian asked after a few minutes of watching him stare at the rack.

“Cumin and Paprika.”

“Here,” Ian said, spotting the cumin up at the top of the array of spices and showed it to Mickey. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Ian smiled softly and began to search for the second one.

“Got it,” Mickey said waving the newly found Paprika in the air before they began to head toward the meat section.

“You think we should pick up something for your brother?” Mickey asked, shooting Ian a cautious look.

“Liam and Carl added what they wanted to the list,” he said confused, “so did Franny and Mandy for that matter. I even think  _ Sandy _ added chips she wanted us to keep around for when she came over.” 

Ian resisted rolling his eyes as he remembered catching Sandy writing on their shopping list. He’d considered telling her to buy her own damn chips, but they seemed to have come to an impasse and currently, they were on relatively good terms. He thought it was their talk they’d had weeks ago now, but he knew it probably had something to do with her weekly visits to Debbie and getting the opportunity to hang out with both of her cousins, more than she had in years. Regardless, he had no desire of pissing her off again, especially over a $3 bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

“I mean your dickhead brother, Lip.”

“Oh,” Ian bit his lip as he thought about his oldest brother who had just moved back into the Gallagher house - surprising absolutely no one when he came barreling through the front door and announcing he was now sleeping on the couch.

This morning Ian had been the one to wake his older brother up with a hot cup of coffee and a plate of bacon, at least to try and make him feel better. While he sipped his coffee and picked at the food, Lip had muttered something about their fight being over Milwaukee  _ again _ . 

Ian wasn’t surprised. He understood both sides of the argument, but it didn’t make it easier to listen to how heartbroken his brother was over not being able to make his relationship work.

Liam had offered up the extra bed in his room to Lip, but he’d been adamant that everything was going to be fine in a few days. Tami just needed to chill the fuck out and Lip needed to step up and show her they could make this work.

They had moved the bunk bed into Liam’s room in case they needed an extra bed for someone who needed a place to crash. They’d chosen Liam’s since Carl’s was too small and Debbie’s was already full. Ian had considered leaving the bunk bed in his and Mickey’s new bedroom, but everyone protested. Lip had said, ‘you guys bang like a couple of 12 years old’s who just discovered fucking,’ which got them out of having to share. 

Ian hoped Lip was right and Tami and him got back together. He knew the slippery slope his brother could slide down if whatever was going on with Tami continued, especially if she threatened to take Fred away. (Lip had revealed that had occurred during their wedding when Milwaukee was still up in the air.)

While there were very few people Ian hated - Terry and Frank were at the top of the list - he didn’t understand how Tami, who claimed to love Lip and Fred, could threaten to take his child away. 

Lip had explained she quickly backtracked, but Ian couldn’t forget how Tami was waving his child above his brother’s head. The whole thing brought a bad taste to his mouth, but he didn’t actively hate her. He was just disappointed she couldn’t see what she was doing to his brother.

But it wasn’t like Lip was an innocent party in the whole thing either. He knew his brother could be difficult. And while Tami wasn’t so bad once you got to know her, he knew they were both stubborn people who wanted their own way. Whether or not it hurt the other one to get it.

At least he and Mickey had discovered what compromise meant (at least he thought they did). He doubted Lip nor Tami knew that word. 

Although, to be far, he and Mickey very rarely actually disagreed with each other. Not on anything important at least, not anymore. It probably helped that Ian regularly took his pills and Mickey had stopped toeing the line of legal and illegal. Neither of them wanted to pick up and leave the city. They were just fine as long as they had each other and Ian couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Last night he, Liam, Mickey, and Carl had been watching a movie when Lip had burst through the front door, a red splotch on his face where Ian had found out later Tami had smacked him. 

He’d mumbled a hello and then disappeared upstairs. Ian and Mickey shared a look, both thinking the same thing - thank fuck, Mandy wasn’t home. She and Sandy had taken Franny out for some ice-cream.

They had to hide the alcohol again while he’d been in the bathroom taking a shower. Right now they had a 12 pack of beer going bad under their bed in the sticky Chicago heat and a liter of whiskey stashed under a pile of dirty clothes.

“I don’t know,” Ian said finally.

“You think he’ll stay awhile?” Mickey asked quietly.

Ian shrugged, “I don’t know. I didn’t even realize they were having issues.” He paused for a minute as he looked through a pack of chicken thighs. “Well, I mean, not serious issues. Not like breaking up with each other issues. During our wedding, Lip was surprised she came and I guess they got into a fight when she left with Fred.”

“Huh, guess that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Few weeks ago he asked me for love advice. What’s up with your siblings asking us for advice? First Fiona, now Lip?” Mickey muttered, shaking his head and snickered.

Ian’s head whipped around to look at him with amused eyes, “he asked  _ you _ for love advice?” Laughing a little, he added, “guess, we’re the dream.”

Mickey snorted, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell Carl that when he asks for fucking love advice next.” 

“So what did Lip say?” Ian pushed.

“Asked what we were doing right and he wasn’t, basically.”

“What did you say?”

Shrugging, Mickey pushed the cart toward the beef section. 

They were planning on having burgers for dinner that night. Ian was supposed to be grilling on the shitty grill they’d borrowed from V and Kev. Where they had managed to find a grill was anyone’s guess, but Ian knew Mickey needed a break, he’d been really tired lately, so he had elected to cook tonight Mickey’s favorite. Both of them were looking forward to a medium rare burger with all the fixings.

“Just to find someone who gets it,” Mickey said, pawing through the various types of ground beef. 

Ian watched him curiously, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, he prompted his husband with a, “what else?”

“That’s it, man, love’s not, like a fucking mystery. It’s just... _ there _ .”

Ian snorted, “it’s just  _ there _ ? That’s what you fucking said?”

“I don’t know, man, what would you have said?”

“I don’t know, something more romantic. Maybe find someone who causes your heart to race when they kiss you or makes you feel like you’re a superhero.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him and then tossed the meat into the cart, “I make your heart race? Or feel like you’re a superhero? After 10 fucking years together?”

Ian shrugged and focused on some pork tenderloin that was on sale. He could feel the blush cascading over his skin and he bit his lip to try and focus on the pain instead of the rapid heat spreading over his face and ears. He could feel Mickey’s eyes on him and he knew his skin was just getting darker as the brunette watched him.

“I love when your ears get all red,” Mickey said with laughter in his voice.

Scoffing, Ian finally looked up and playfully glared at him, causing Mickey to chuckle louder. He shoved at his shoulder to signal he was ready to move on to their next food destination. He was ready to leave Jewel and head back home so they could have their dinner of burgers.

“Do I make you feel like you can do anything?” Ian asked as they stopped in the bakery section.

Mickey smirked, “nuh huh, you didn’t answer my question, Rudolph-Red-Ears, so I’m not answering yours.”

“Mick--” Ian began to whine, but was cut off when Mickey gave him a ‘hold on’ gesture and took out his phone. 

Ian sighed as Mickey began to talk to probably one of their family members and he chose to go over to the breads and grab the cheapest loaf. He wasn’t sure what else was on the list, so he diligently brought back the package and waited for Mickey to get off the phone. 

“Who was that?” Ian asked as he hung up.

“Your brother - the dickhead,” Mickey said rolling his eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to wait for Mickey to go on. He huffed and began to scroll through his phone.

“What did he want?” Ian asked when Mickey didn’t say anything.

“To grab bread, like we didn’t already fucking know. And to tell us to hurry up. He should fucking do the shopping if he’s going to be such a dick about it,” Mickey muttered checking the cart and then his phone.

“Mick, come on, Tami just dumped him. Can you try to be a little nice?” Ian asked, pushing the cart as Mickey started walking.

“Let me think... _ no _ . Not my fucking fault his baby mama told him to leave. I’m not giving him special treatment cause he’s not doing whatever the fuck it is she wants him to do. Between you and me, he wants to be involved. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Mickey asked heading toward the registers.

“I don’t know...I think it’s more than that. I mean, she has some high expectations,” Ian mused thinking back to a conversation he had with Lip after he got out of prison. A conversation that was basically Lip talking about all the ways Tami was grating on his nerves. He remembered thinking at the time they weren’t going to last if neither of them understood each other better. He wondered how he could help Lip understand that.

“Whatever. When we have kids, I’m not dealing with your nagging,” Mickey interjected causing Ian to smile.

Mickey was totally going to deal with his nagging, the same way he dealt with it now. Mickey may not like it, but Ian still did it. The nagging wasn’t even anything bad, just little things like putting his dirty underwear in the hamper instead of on the floor and making sure to take his dishes and glasses down to the kitchen to avoid growing fuzzy creatures in their room.

“When  _ we _ have kids? You been thinking about that a lot, Mick?” Ian asked, a note of teasing in his voice.

Mickey glared at him, but Ian could see the ghost of a smile threatened to overcome his face.

“Not happening anytime soon, Gallagher. We have enough mouths to fucking feed.”

Ian knew he wasn’t containing his smile when Mickey shot him a look that clearly said ‘shut up.’ “But you’ve thought of it.” 

Mickey ignored him and found a cashier that didn’t have a long line. He didn’t notice Ian watching him carefully as he began to unload the groceries as the cashier talked to the woman in front of them.

Ian could feel his smile widen as he watched him, his heart feeling full and warm at the idea of having kids with Mickey. It was something he’d thought a lot about over the years, even when they were apart. 

A long ago memory of Mickey, Yev, and him in a pristine living room had been a bright spot in his darkest hours. A dream he’d held close to his heart for some time. A dream he didn’t think would ever actually come to pass.

Thankfully, he’d been wrong.

Well, they didn’t have Yev, but they could have a baby of their own. A child that wasn’t created out of a shitty situation; one that was created from love and respect and happiness.

Sometimes it was the only warm thought he’d have - this imagined future with Mickey - even when he didn’t think he’d ever see him again. At least after he’d left him at the boarder. 

For a time, when Mickey was in prison, he’d imagined running into him again. What would happen...if Mickey hated him...if Mickey would still be Mickey…if it was just teenage love…

But they’d made it. 

They were here.

_ They had each other forever. _

Continuing to watch him, Ian said pushed the cart a little to bump Mickey’s hip to get him to look at him.

He looked up at him with raised eyebrows and waited for him to say something, but Ian just smiled fondly at him. He tried to convey everything he was feeling in one look, hoping Mickey understood. They didn’t really say I love yous in public, they both felt that it was private, just for them. 

But Ian really wanted to say it. 

He needed him to know.

When Mickey smiled back affectionately, Ian knew he got it.

He always fucking got it.

Mickey reached forward awkwardly over the cart and squeezed Ian’s hand resting on the side and then he went back to unloading the groceries. The woman talked cheerily to the person in front of them, making sure to wish them a good day before the customer walked away.

“Come on, Gallagher, I wanna go home. We don’t have all day. Hungry mouths to feed and shit,” Mickey gripped and Ian began to put the hoards of vegetables on the conveyor belt. 

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“Paper or plastic?” The woman behind the counter asked.

Ian directed his attention to her and the bagger. Halfheartedly, he held up the canvas bags they’d stolen from another Jewel downtown near Mickey’s work. He handed the bags over, but his attention was still on Mickey who was barking orders at the bagger on the right way to place their groceries in the bag. The last time they’d gone shopping all their vegetables had been squished cause the bagging wasn’t done properly.

The last of the groceries were on the conveyor getting rung up. 

Ian looked between the woman who was eyeing Mickey’s tattoo knuckles disdainfully while his husband carefully watched the young guy bagging the groceries.

Before the woman had made conversation with the person in front of them, but now, her pleasant demeanor had dropped and she was eyeing mainly Mickey with disdain. 

Although, he caught her shooting him a few looks of displeasure, especially after they’d held hands earlier. 

It had been awhile since he’d seen such disdain and the look caused a churning of anger in his belly.

He didn’t think Mickey noticed, with his focus on the bagger, which he was grateful for. He wasn’t ever sure how Mickey would respond to people who reacted badly to them. He wasn’t sure if it was Mickey’s tattoos or the evidence of their relationship, but the curled lip and furrowed brow was causing him to tense up and eye her warily.

In a clipped tone, she told them their final price and Mickey threw a few $20s on the counter and glanced back at Ian. 

“You ready for these moutherfucking burgers,  _ babe _ ?”

Blinking at the strange pet name, it took him a moment to catch on. Seeing the woman since, Ian smiled. Whether it was the endearment (which he hated) or the swear word, he wasn’t sure. Apparently, Mickey  _ had _ been paying attention to the woman. Turning back to him, he saw him watching her with a mocking smirk.

“Fuck yeah, twinkle-toes,” Ian said pushing the cart with their bagged groceries in it. He made sure to be a little louder than normal as the woman cast them another disdainful look. 

Cackling as they walked out of the store, Ian grabbed two of the four bags.

“Twinkle-toes? The fuck, Ian? At least I went with a normal nickname!” Mickey said grabbing the last two bags and beginning their walk home.

“It sounded the most nauseating,” Ian said sheepishly.

“Did you see her fucking face?” Mickey added, turning around to look at Ian.

Ian opened his mouth to respond when Mickey bumped into a tall blonde haired man. The man was wearing a t-shirt, so there was a clear view of the tattoos on his neck and arms. Ian noticed a scar on the side of his face that ran from his eye down to his jaw. He didn’t really look like a guy you wanted to fuck with. So of course, they had the misfortune of bumping into him. Even if it was an accident, the guy didn’t look like someone who understood what that word meant.

At first, he went on the defensive to make sure his husband didn’t flip a shit on the stranger, but something even weirder happened. 

His misanthropic, grumpy husband wasn’t snarling at the man. In fact, he was looking contrite as the blonde haired man looked him up and down, a smirk settling on his face - one if Ian wasn’t mistaken looked a little lewd.

“Mickey Milkovich as I live and fucking breathe,” the blonde said, dragging his eyes across Mickey’s body and flashing him a wicked smile. “You look good.”

Ian felt his eyebrows raise so high, he figured they were to his hairline.

_ Who the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ was this? _

Was this some guy he’d met in prison? Or juvie? Or was this someone else altogether that Mickey had never mentioned? He hated the fact he didn’t know because Mickey never wanted to talk about it. But all Ian could think was  _ who the fuck was this?  _

Over and over again. 

He already felt the stirrings of irritation as the man kept his eyes trained on his husband, the same wicked little smile tilted his mouth upwards. 

He tried to push the anger down, but the uncomfortable look Mickey shot him caused the green-eyed monster to rise closer and closer to the surface. He blamed the cashier for popping the little bubble of happiness around him and Mickey and now this fucker who was staring at his husband like he was going to proposition him.

“Blue, hey,” Mickey said.

In awe, Ian watched his husband cast a cagey look at the blonde guy who was a few inches taller than him. He was sure he could take him though, if it came down to it. 

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

Mickey shrugged, “fine, man, nothing new. You?”

“Living with my sister in Skokie. I’m Blue, who are you?” the blonde asked, glancing at Ian, the lewd smile on his face dropping as his eyes moved south to the ring on his finger which was shining in the summer sun.

“His husband, Ian,” Ian said, sensing that he should stake his claim after the way he’d seen him looking at Mickey. He had half a mind to move between them, to block Mickey from sight, but he knew that was probably stepping over the line. Still though, he wouldn’t rule it out.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Mickey raise his eyebrows, but Ian kept his eyes trained on this man in front of him.

The blonde glanced at Mickey and then back at Ian.

“Huh, didn’t realize you were out and proud, Mickey. Congrats, I guess. Well, it was good seeing you. ”

Ian couldn’t believe his eyes when the guy let his eyes drag lazily over Mickey and then he turned and began walking toward the front of the store.

Immediately turning to his husband, he saw him itching his eyebrow with his thumb and his eyes darting everywhere but at Ian.

“Can we go home now?” Mickey asked, picking up the discarded bags and continuing toward the L.

“Who the fuck was that?” Ian asked trying to keep his voice level, but even he could hear the strain.

“A guy I knew in juvie,” Mickey said without looking behind him.

“A guy you knew it juvie?” Ian repeated.

“Yeah, you know, I was in juvie a lot,” Mickey said casually.

Gawking at him, Ian struggled to figure out what to ask next to get his husband to open up a little more. It had taken years, but Mickey had gotten better about opening up.

Except apparently about his sexual past.

Come to think of it, Ian didn’t know anything about who his husband had slept with other than Angie Zahgo and fucking Byron. 

He didn’t count Svetlana for obvious reasons.

Now that they’d come upon ‘a guy from juvie’ Ian felt as if Pandora’s Box had opened and a flood of questions were circling his brain. 

The first and most important one was: how many other guys did he fuck in juvie/prison? Or did he let guys fuck him? What about fucking Mexico? 

The one area of conversation Ian couldn’t pry out of Mickey. 

He was reeling at the idea of Mickey fucking guys in juvie, it was something Ian had always wondered, but never actually knew. Mickey had alluded to it over the years, but that was it. He remembered when he’d gotten out that first time and they had gone to the dugouts. He’d plainly asked if he ‘made any friends’ purposefully asking without actually asking if he’d fucked anyone else. 

Mickey had ignored it. 

Instead, focusing on fucking, but now Ian began to replay all of the questions he’d asked Mickey after he got out of prison or juvie when he’d asked questions like that one.

And how Mickey had bypassed every single one. 

Now he finally wanted an answer.

He wasn’t going to let Mickey get out of this one.

Mickey never talked about who he may or may not have fucked in juvie, prison, Mexico… 

He couldn’t help but feel curious (maybe jealous too) and he fell into an old rhythm that had helped Mickey get out of his shell in the past.

He pushed.

“Did you fuck him?” Ian blurted out. 

Mickey laughed quietly, “are you for real?”

Ian stared at him, waiting for him to continue, not finding it the least bit funny. He felt like he had the morning Mickey had come home after spending the night with Byron. 

He remembered the sour taste in his mouth as he watched Mickey purposefully make out with him in front of the house. The tightness in his chest increased more and more. Especially when Mickey insisted he was in love with the tiny, bony fucker. 

Except now, instead of Byron, he was seeing that blonde asshole - Blue. Blue, who seemed more Mickey’s type. Someone who was tough and Southside and  _ fun.  _

Ian had never truly felt threatened by Byron, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like shit knowing he was the cause of Mickey leaving him for that hipster douchebag.

Rather than answer him, Mickey started moving toward the L. 

Running after him, Ian asked, “Mick, you didn’t answer the question.” 

He watched as Mickey’s shoulders tensed up, “it’s not a big deal. It was, I don’t know, maybe the second time I was in juvie.”

“The time after Kash shot you?”

“Yeah, maybe. It was a long time ago.”

Ian frowned as he watched Mickey avoid his eyes. He seemed to be focusing on getting to the L so they could get home, but Ian saw the panicked discomfort in his eyes. 

Ian had hoped they had moved past the walls they had built around themselves. He had hoped they’d managed to knock all of them down. He knew all of his walls were gone. Mickey was the only one he opened himself too. 

Ever. 

But he also knew he kept pushing about Mexico, which was a wall Mickey still held up very strong. Evidently, the wall about their past separation was also still standing.

He couldn’t help it though, Mexico had weighed heavily on his mind since he’d tried to bring it up before the BBQ and Mickey had shot him down. 

Had something happened there? 

Had Mickey found someone else while he was back in Chicago letting his life fall apart? But Ian argued that if Mickey had found someone else, he wouldn’t have come back to him,  _ right _ ?

“You know, we never really had this conversation,” Ian said quietly.

Mickey scowled, “and you want to have it  _ now _ ? The fuck why? It’s a pointless conversation. All I need to know is that you’re only sleeping with me.”

“Well yeah, of course I’m only sleeping with you,” Ian tried not to roll his eyes at the statement. 

Wasn’t it obvious? 

_ They were fucking married _ , Ian wouldn’t do that to Mickey. Not after everything they’d gone through to get here.

“Don’t say it like it’s obvious, Gallagher,” Mickey snapped.

His heart sinking, Ian slowed as they got to the mouth of the platform. He watched as Mickey continued going, but he turned back around when he saw Ian wasn’t with him.

“Come on, we can fight at home,” Mickey said in frustration. 

Ian watched Mickey’s eyes dart across his face and then he sighed. Something on Ian’s face must’ve told him his words had been a low blow and he was gearing up to argue. But the little sigh he let out, enlightened Ian to the fact that he was trying to defuse the situation. He didn’t want to argue, he just wanted to go home.

“Ian, c’mere,” he said nodding toward the train with his head since his hands were full.

Ian nodded and continued after him, not saying anything until they were comfortably seated in the back of a train car. 

The pit of guilt that he associated with every time he hurt Mickey was forming in his stomach as he thought back to the time, so long ago when he’d been working at the club and allowed other men to touch him when he was so out of it. 

The look of hurt on Mickey’s face when he found out about the porno… 

It had been years and they’d talked about it - most recently after their first date when Mickey and him had agreed not to hurt each other anymore. But it was still there, lingering like an untreated toothache.

Was Mickey still pissed? 

Did he still hold it against him?

Was he just lashing out because Ian was pushing?

Ian expected Mickey to be angry the entire ride, but instead, he took Ian’s hand in his and hesitantly looked up at him. 

“What do you want to know?” he asked quietly.

“How many other guys have you slept with?” Ian asked after a long pause. His fingers drumming on his pants leg, trying to act casual as he asked the question, even though his insides were rolling.

Mickey sighed heavily, but Ian was focused on their entwined hands. The way his wedding ring cut the U in U-UP. How shiny the metal was against Mickey’s pale skin… He rubbed his thumb over the metal, feeling where the skin met it. “Jesus, fuck, you really want to get into this now? Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“We talked about my past not yours,” Ian stated trying to keep his voice light even as his mind concocted images of that guy -  _ Blue _ (what the fuck type of name was that anyway?) and Mickey. 

He felt a burning acidic feeling in his stomach at the thought. The same one he’d had for the two weeks he was without Mickey all those months ago. The same one he’d had when Mickey had gone off with Angie Zahgo all those years ago. 

The question had been nagging at him. 

While he’d let it lay for a few weeks, he felt the urge to push ahead, he needed to. Especially now that he’d had a taste of seeing Mickey with someone else, someone more his type. 

“So? We’re not living in the past, we’re living in the present and you’re my present and future, so what’s the fucking point?”

Ian tried to ignore how his heart melted a little at that. “As romantic as a sentiment as that is,” Mickey flicked him off causing Ian to feel a little lighter and gave him the courage to plow ahead. 

_ Fuck _ , he felt like when they were younger and he was trying to get Mickey to admit he liked him, just to give him a hint he was into him.

The tiniest fucking hint.

“Mick, I’m not trying to make this into a thing--”

“Well, you are, Ian.”

“But, I just…” Ian sighed and decided to start again, “why don’t you want to talk about it? Did something bad happen?”

Mickey glanced at him and then out the window. Ian watched as he stared outside and then finally looked back at him. “Why do you always have to push these things? I told you I didn’t want to talk about Mexico.”

Ian looked away from him, feeling that hot flash of guilt knowing he was pushing Mickey too far. He thought he knew the line after all this time, but he just wanted to know. He just wanted him to open up, just a little more.

He wanted to laugh at himself, it was always a little more with Mickey.

But it was never enough.

He wanted all of him.

_ All the time. _

“Okay,” he said, shooting him a pointed look, “if you don’t want to talk about it, then okay. But - but Mick, I just -  _ we’re married now _ .”

Mickey raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to probably tell him ‘no shit’ or ‘fuck off,’ but Ian quickly plowed ahead.

“We’re married and all the time you spent in Mexico or juvie or prison… that’s a version of you that I don’t know. One that I’d like to know. You know all of the different versions of me, so why can’t I know all of you?,” Ian said trying to hide the desperation in his tone.

He saw Mickey’s shoulders slump and his expressive eyebrows moved lower too. Ian could see his resolve cracking, so he tried once more. 

_ One more tiny push. _

“What happened in Mexico?”

Ian could tell the moment when he went too far because Mickey tensed beside him again and he glowered at him. Swallowing at the sight, Ian waited for his husband to snap at him. 

“Fucking, Christ, what’s your obsession with Mexico?”

As Mickey got on the defensive, Ian could feel his own hackles rise. He tried to reign it in, but he could feel the jealousy, annoyance, and frustration slip through causing him to ask in a tight voice, “did something happen? Did you fall in love--” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey scoffed.

“Then what? What happened in Mexico or juvie or hell, prison? What’s so fucking bad about telling me about your time there? If we run into some guy you fucked in prison, an ex--”

“The fuck are you talking about? Didn’t you already point out before we got married that I’d never been in a relationship? Wasn’t that the big selling point to make sure I wanted to marry you?” Mickey pointed out.

Ian frowned, “yes, but--”

“Come on,” Mickey cut him off as the train neared their stop. 

Ian followed after him, trekking in the hot evening sun toward their house, the bags weighing heavily in their arms. Mirroring the feeling of his heart as he replayed their conversation. He probably could’ve handled it better.

“Mick--”

“No, I’m done with this conversation,” Mickey yelled over his shoulder.

Ian walked a little quicker as they neared their street knowing that when they got home, Liam and Franny would be on them since they were eager for burgers too.

“I just want us to be honest with each other,” Ian said quickly, needing Mickey to know he wasn’t going to stop pushing until they talked.

He heard Mickey let out a frustrated sound, but he didn’t say anything else as he walked quicker toward their house. 

Ian probably would’ve marveled at his husband’s quick pace if he wasn’t so annoyed by his disregard for the conversation.

* * *

That evening was uncomfortable. There was no other word to describe it. Ian had replayed the conversation in his head and he knew he messed up. He knew he had pushed too far. If he’d left well enough alone, he would’ve worn Mickey down enough to answer him. But instead, he chose the path of too much resistance. 

The thing was, Mickey was the only person he’d ever been honest with. He was the only one he’d ever been himself with. He’d never opened up to anyone else the way he had to Mickey, so he didn’t understand why his husband couldn’t do the same with him. 

Ian knew Liam and Franny noticed the tension between them.

Mostly because Liam confronted him while he was flipping the burgers on the grill and point blank asked.

“We got into an argument,” Ian had said.

Liam raised his eyebrows and gave him a pointed look, “is this going to be like last time?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Ian gave him an unimpressed look, “we’re fine. It’ll be fine.”

Liam was quiet for a few minutes and then nodded, “okay, cause I like Mickey.”

“Yeah, I do too.”

After Ian had finished making dinner, they awkwardly ate burgers while everyone around them chatted about their day. Mickey still sat next to him, which Ian counted as a win, but he didn’t play footsie with him under the table or hold his hand during dinner. He didn’t playfully tease him about his cooking or bump his hip when they were moving around the kitchen. He wouldn’t even share a smile with him while they ate.

Ian really hated it. 

Lip was the only other miserable one at the table and while Ian knew his brother was dealing with his own relationship issues, he was stuck on the best way he could apologize to Mickey while also getting him to open up to him.

Ian kept thinking about when they had first started hooking up all those years ago and Mickey had continuously pushed him away. In the beginning, Ian could tell Mickey was interested in him, his actions told him he was. The fact he kept coming back to him, that he’d been the one to initiate everything, it was always Mickey.

But then he’d tell him he was ‘just a warm mouth’ or he’d go and fuck women, like Angie Zahgo. 

Up until Ian had left to go to the army, he’d always trusted his instincts with Mickey. He knew he meant more to him because he could  _ feel _ it. But when he pushed Mickey for more, to actually fucking admit it, he’d watched him close down before his eyes.

That’s why words were probably so important to him.

Why sometimes he needed Mickey to just say what he was thinking.

Why he needed him to say  _ how he felt. _

He didn’t want to assume anymore.

He wanted Mickey to be open.

And while he  _ knew _ Mickey didn’t care about any of the other people he’d been with -

he’d chosen Ian forever after all - he still wanted to break down the last of the walls between them.

He still needed to hear him say what he was thinking, how he felt, that he loved him.

And Mexico, prison, and even the time Mickey spent in juvie until coming back to Ian were all mysterious moments in time for him. Ian felt removed from them in the way he never did with any of the other parts of Mickey’s life. And while he may not like everything he could hear about how Mickey spent his time in any of those places,  _ he wanted all of Mickey _ .

Not just some of him. 

Not like when they were younger.

Now that they were married, he wanted to know everything. 

Afterward dinner, Mickey headed upstairs and Ian followed after him. He didn’t need Mickey to tell him to follow to know that he wanted him to. He could read Mickey like a book, but he also needed him to verbalize the inner workings of his mind. He didn’t want to guess anymore. Ian loved knowing Mickey so well, but just like when they were at the courthouse, he still wanted to know where he was emotionally. If Mickey talked to him, then there was less room for Ian to fuck something up. 

Because he knew he was going to fuck something up. 

He always did after all. 

Today was case and point.

It was probably why he was pushing this so hard because he didn’t want to fuck something up.

They headed into their bedroom and closed the door. The room was engulfed in silence as Mickey began to walk around the room, fiddling with little knicknacks here and there. Ian went over to the bed and watched him patiently, until he was ready to talk.

“I fucking hate talking about feelings,” Mickey said breaking the silence.

“I know.”

The room filled with silence and Ian continued to wait on Mickey.

“I don’t know why you keep bringing this shit up,” Mickey muttered glancing at him.

Ian bit the inside of his lip as he struggled to come up with a way to explain it to him. “Because I love you,” he said casually and then smiled slightly when Mickey seemed to relax a little at the sentiment. “And because I want us to be better than before. If we talk about all the shit we hate talking about - feelings and shit - then maybe, I don’t know, nothing will come between us.”

Mickey moved to sit next to him on the bed. Ian watched as he stared down at his hands and then said, “nothing ever really came between us. We always came back together in the end.”

Ian smiled sadly, “yeah after I fucked up--”

“I fucked up too. I hurt you.”

“I hurt you too.”

Mickey shook his head, “we had this conversation. No more hurting each other, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but talking--”

“Yeah, yeah, communication and shit.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence. Ian took a minute to study the profile of his husband. His head was bowed as he stared down at his hands. His blue eyes were stormy in the dim lighting of the afternoon sun. This close he could make out pale freckles from the summer sun. The curved bow of his pink lips. One of his expressive eyebrows telling Ian more about his emotional state than the mouth he loved so much. Moving forward, he placed a hand over his and lightly squeezed his fingers for reassurance.

Mickey turned to him and stared at him for a moment, “we’re good, you know. I mean, I’m not afraid or anything. I just...I hate thinking about some of the shit from back then. That’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ian opened his mouth to push again, but Mickey cut him off.

“I slept with 20 guys, 3 women. Blue was just...he was there. You weren’t,” Ian watched as Mickey worried his lip with his teeth, but he plowed on. “I’m tired of you asking about Mexico. But if you really want to know why I don’t want like talking about it, well here it goes.”

Mickey took a deep breath and looked back down at their entwined hands. Ian’s ring shined up at him, reminding them both where they were now, “I spent the first six months down there basically homeless, sleeping wherever the fuck I could find, drinking as much as I could, and thinking about you. 

Slept with probably a healthy portion of that number during that time just to forget you. Fucking tried to hate you, but...I understood why you couldn’t come with me. That didn’t stop me from feeling like shit about it. I don’t like talking about prison or fucking Mexico because I knew you were out there living your life with some other fucking guy while I was rotting away in a cell or in Mexico, feeling fucking alone and forgotten.”

Ian felt his stomach roll as he thought about Mickey by himself in a cell or sleeping in a park because he didn’t have anyone else. 

During that time, he’d tried not to think of Mickey. He’d tried to paint what they had as something dark and twisted. He’d even told his exes that Mickey had been a shitshow relationship, but hearing what had happened to him down there was different.

The acidic feeling in his stomach was back, but this time it wasn’t due to jealousy. It was due to knowing he’d let Mickey down, after everything he’d done to make sure Ian was okay. The acidic feeling hugged the heavy feeling of guilt in his stomach and for a moment, Ian wondered if he was actually going to be sick.

He thought about Mickey having no one to rely on, being in another country without speaking the language. He thought about how lonely he must’ve felt. And he thought about what he must’ve felt thinking Ian was off living his best life in Chicago.

He felt tears prickle at his eyes and he took a shaky breath in as he tried to wade through the feelings of guilt.

“Made me feel like shit. And thinking of that time when you were up here with your little fucking boyfriend while I was scrapping by to fucking survive, well, it was fucking...it was fucking rough,” Mickey said growing quieter and quier. 

He chanced a look at Ian and he reached forward and wiped a tear from his cheek. Ian blinked rapidly, not even realizing he had started crying. 

He ducked his head in embarrassment. 

This was Mickey’s story, not his. 

He shouldn’t be crying… 

Mickey moved his hand from under Ian’s and placed it on top, so it was now his ring that shined in the dim lighting of the room. Mickey’s hand sandwiched Ian’s larger one, causing a familiar tenderness to spread in his chest. Ian smiled slightly when he saw their ringed hands resting on top of each other.

“That’s why I don’t like talking about Mexico. I understand why you left, but that doesn’t make it better. And fucking prison, you fucking left me in there too. No one talked to me for over a year. I was just... _ forgotten _ . Like I didn’t matter to anyone, like I didn’t matter to you,” Mickey avoided Ian’s gaze as he finished.

Ian swallowed thickly and tried to think of something to say to make him feel better. He felt at a standstill though, nothing he said could take away Mickey’s hurt. He could try, but he knew it would linger, like the cheating, despite the fact he was manic. He still did it. He could never take it back. 

They just had to find a way to move forward.

Like Ian had to figure out how to push away all of the shit Mickey had done to hurt him.

Maybe this was what marriage was, learning how to forgive someone because you loved them too much not to have them with you all the time.

More tears trailed down his cheeks and he knew once he opened his mouth, he’d choke something out. 

_ Fuck it. _

“I didn’t forget you,” he croaked out causing Mickey to look up.

“I kn--”

“I could never forget you.  _ I fucking love you. _ My life was so fucked up after you went to prison - after I left you at the boarder. I tried - tried to feel better. I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t. I was lost. Not just cause I was mourning Monica, but because I was mourning you too. I had finally realized what we had was - it was  _ perfect _ . I regretted so much shit. And I hated this fucking disorder from keeping me from you -  _ again _ . I kept thinking that if I wasn’t sick - if I didn’t have to take medication, I could’ve gone with you,” he swallowed back more tears that were threatened to overtake him and he pushed on, needing Mickey to understand one more thing.

“I missed you, fuck, Mick, I missed you so much. I tried to make myself feel better, but...you were all I ever wanted. I couldn’t forget you, Mick, never fucking ever. It would be like forgetting my own name,” Ian said growing quieter and quieter as he continued talking.

As he revealed his deepest emotions to his husband, he realized how much harder this was than he thought. 

Maybe he hadn’t been as open as he believed.

Sure, they’d talked emotional shit before, but it was daunting, even though he knew Mickey wasn’t going to laugh at him or anything. 

It was just scary to be so raw with someone. 

They’d done it before, but talking about all the hurt they’d gone through in their past, it was fucking rough.

He didn’t begrudge Mickey from shying away from it so much.

He had too. 

He just didn’t want to do that with Mickey anymore.

As much as he wanted Mickey to open himself all the way to him. He wanted to open himself all the way to Mickey too.

All the good, bad, ugly shit.

Nothing between them.

Looking up, he found Mickey watching him, he added, “I hate talking about feelings.”

Mickey cracked a smile and Ian couldn’t help but return it as their eyes met. Watching each other, the air around them seemed to crackle and like two magnets their lips fused together hungrily. 

Ian had expected tenderness after all of those confessions, but there was none of that as Mickey pushed his tongue into his mouth fervently seeking out Ian’s. 

As Mickey’s tongue slid across his, something seemed to snap inside Ian. Tugging his shirt over his head, he felt Mickey begin to paw at his skin, the way he liked.

Breaking the kiss to take his shirt all the way off, Mickey’s hands were grabbing at the newly exposed flesh. His fingers dancing from his shoulders, down his pecs, to his stomach. He stopped for a moment to run the pads of his fingertips over his nipples, causing them to harden and then those dexterous fingers Ian loved so much were on the fly of his jeans.

“Get up,” Mickey instructed, pushing Ian back and eagerly pushing his jeans the rest of the way down.

Ian knew as Mickey’s mouth latched back onto his that this was going to be hard and fast and rough. 

And that’s exactly what he wanted.

He wanted to be inside of Mickey as soon as possible, all of the foreplay be damned. He went on autopilot as he began to hungrily rip Mickey’s own clothes off, pulling his shirt from his torso. Ian hauled Mickey off the bed to drag his jeans down those thighs he loved to bite and suck on when they had the time.

But right now, all he needed was Mickey as close to him as humanly possible. He needed to know he was here with him. Not in prison or Mexico or even juvie. He needed to know he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Judging by Mickey making quick work of his own clothes, he knew he felt the same way. 

“Need you, fucking now,” Mickey rasped out pulling away and descending kisses along his neck. He could hear his heavy breathing filling the room as Mickey made his way down Ian’s body until he was face to face with his semi-hard dick. 

He heard Mickey’s knees hit the floor and his hands grabbed his waist hard enough to leave bruises to bring him closer.

He watched as Mickey wrapped his mouth around the head and hollowed out his cheeks to help him get hard quickly.

A warmth began to spread over Ian as Mickey started to move his mouth over his length. It didn’t take long for him to feel his arousal build as his husband took him further and further into his mouth. 

“Get up here,” Ian demanded, tugging on Mickey’s hair to get him to stop. With a soft pop sound, Mickey moved back up to Ian’s mouth and they joined for heady kisses that stocked the fire in his belly. 

Pushing Mickey roughly back onto the mattress, he crawled on top of him, making sure to rub his body along his, enjoying the little gasps from his husband’s mouth. He could feel the precum from Mickey’s dick slick up his skin where he made sure to grind against him.

Ian hastily grabbed the lube from their bedside table and squirted some onto his fingers to begin prepping him. He heard Mickey’s intake of breath as he began to palm his dick and when he looked up, he found the brunette staring at him hungrily, his thighs falling open as Ian continued pumping his dick. With his lube covered fingers, he began to slide a finger inside of Mickey, feeling his moist, warmth engulf him.

He watched Mickey’s face as his head fell back and he bit his lip.

“Don’t,” Ian said, causing Mickey to look at him, “I want to hear you.”

Smirking, Mickey let out a breathy sigh and reached out to touch Ian’s head. “Get the fuck in me, Ian, now.” 

Not needing to be told twice, Ian pushed a second finger inside of him and began to scissor his opening, so he was ready for him. 

“Come on,” Mickey whined, grinding down on his fingers and tugging his hair.

Ian huffed out a laugh and withdrew his fingers. He grabbed more lube to put on his dick, making sure to add a little more than necessary since he hadn’t prepped Mickey that well. They were both too eager to be together. 

When he was finished, he leaned down and laid a hard kiss on Mickey’s mouth before aligning himself at his stretched opening. His head kissed Mickey’s hole and much too slowly, he pushed in, until he bottomed out. When he entered him, he immediately felt Mickey’s warmth encircle him, the feeling filling him from his head down to his toes.

“Fuck,” Mickey moaned as Ian’s thighs pressed against his ass cheeks.

“You feel so fucking good, Mick,” Ian murmured as he brought a hand up to his hip and tapped it to signal to wrap his legs around his waist. 

Mickey did as Ian non-verbally asked to give them a better angle. Leaning over, Ian placed another rough kiss on his lips. As Mickey’s tongue found his own, he began to move his hips, slowly at first, wanting to find his prostate before he began to increase the pace.

It took a few thrusts until Ian found what he was looking for. He could tell when Mickey’s little breathy sounds turned into drawn out moans and Ian began to speed up his tempo. He made sure to hit that spot inside Mickey that made his toes curl. He loved the sounds his husband made every time he hit that spot.

“Fucking love you, so much, so, so much,” Ian rasped out, burying his head in his neck. His hands were gripping Mickey’s shoulders for leverage as he pounded into him, but he wanted to be even closer than they were now. He wanted them to be connected in every way possible. He moved his right hand from Mickey’s shoulder and searched out his hand. Peeling it from his sweaty back, he entwined their fingers. Their sticky palms pressing together.

Ian could feel the pleasure building, the telltale tingle in the pit of his stomach that increased with each thrust. The way Mickey’s warmth engulfed him, encasing him more and more into his heat. Until he felt like where he began and Mickey ended was a circle of love and intensity and passion. 

Their moans mingled together in the room and Ian knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Wanting to come with Mickey, he reached between them and began to palm his husband’s dick to make sure they would finish together. He could tell by the increase of volume from him that he was close. 

From a foggy distance, he could hear Mickey moaning his name again and again.

He could feel the flutters around his dick as Mickey’s muscles began to tense the closer he got to his release. 

“Mick, I’m coming, fuck, I’m going to come,” Ian moaned out, his hips stuttering as he neared completion.

Kissing him as he felt his balls began to tighten, he thrust once more into Mickey and then he was falling off the edge into the abyss of pleasure. His vision seemed to black out as he lost himself in Mickey.

It was always Mickey.

It would only be Mickey.

As his vision came back, he hear his husband cry out in pleasure and the sticky cum pulsing from his dick onto their skin. In an attempt to help his husband ride out his orgasm, Ian tried to thrust a few more times, but he was spent. He collapsed onto Mickey none too gently. But they were both breathing too heavily to care.

Ian wasn’t sure if it was hours, minutes, maybe even seconds, but he rolled over onto his back, when Mickey’s taps onto his back turned to smacks to signal him to move. He wasn’t breathing as heavily, but his legs felt like jello and he really couldn’t be bothered to clean the cum that had gotten onto his belly off. Looking at Mickey, he could tell he felt the same way.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathed out finally. He looked over at him and grinned in such a blissed out manner, Ian moved forward to kiss him, still wanting to feel the warmth only Mickey could give him.

“We should get emotional more often,” he muttered when he pulled away.

Ian laughed and shook his head, “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

Mickey shrugged, “you’re right, it sucks, but it’s true. I just wish...I don’t know. I hate talking about that shit.”

Ian was quiet for a few minutes as he thought about what to say to that. He hated talking about it too, he hated feeling guilty and looking at all of the times he’d hurt Mickey because he was dealing with his own shit. He hated that he’d hurt him in the first place, but their past was still part of them.

No matter how much they hated it.

“You’re the first thing I think about every morning when I wake up and you’re the last person I think of before I go to bed. You’re it for me. I’ve known that since I was 15,” Ian said glancing over at him.

He saw the soft smile form on Mickey’s lips and he reached out to wrap his arms around him, bringing their lips together again.

“Soft motherfucker. I don’t want to talk anymore,” Mickey said when they pulled away.

Ian could feel Mickey’s hand wrapping around his spent dick. Laughing, he asked, “again?”

Mickey nodded and gave him a lecherous look, “gotta problem with that? You got another round in you or you too tired, twinkle-toes?”

Ian burst out laughing and moved in for another kiss, intent on showing his husband how not tired he was.


	10. With The Stars And The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey cleans the house. He finds some old mementos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this story! Also, thank you to those who have left kudos. I very much appreciate it. 
> 
> I apologize for the later than usual update. I was going to update Friday and then lost 1k words of this chapter and then got pissed and couldn't write for a day. So again I apologize. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter. It's a little strange I think. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I had a hard time ending it because I didn't want it to be too similar to the previous chapter but I also wanted it to be in character so it has kinda a strange ending. Anyway, after this chapter there's two more left, which is super exciting, but also really sad. They will both be full chapters, no epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading, please let me know what you think! I'm going to shoot for another update Friday, but we'll see what happens.

_I swear it is true_

_The past isn't dead_

_It's alive, it is happening_

_In the back of my head_

_~”It’s Happening Again” By Agnes Obel_

* * *

Mickey couldn’t exactly remember the last time he’d been at a Gallagher blowout. It had been a few years, he knew that. Even when they were teenagers, he must’ve only been to a couple of them. 

If that. 

He remembered Ian dragged him to one, but he’d gotten pretty drunk. He barely knew what happened, except he drank a lot.

Enough for his head to hurt the next morning and for a puke bucket to have been placed beside his bed thanks to his not-exactly-his-boyfriend-but-totally-his-boyfriend.

Before that he’d heard about them for years. Ian sometimes would sneak over to his house after one on such a high of euphoria. He’d smell like cigarettes. He’d taste like beer or whiskey. Mickey remembered his face would be so lit up in happiness, it would bleed into him, warming his body like hot chocolate during a cold Chicago day.

Mickey remembered he used to feel a little jealous of Ian back then. He had this family who looked out for him. A family who accepted him. A family who he had fun with; who he fucking _liked_. While Mickey was stuck with his siblings who thought bonding was sitting around trading horror stories while filing off serial numbers on guns or getting so black out drunk they’d draw inappropriate pictures on their faces in permanent marker.

Over the years, Mickey had come to realize Ian was more his family than any of those shitheads. And while Ian had become his family _legally_ , he’d also inherited the other Gallaghers as well.

Which meant that now whenever anything that gave them an excuse for a party occurred, Mickey was now meant to _be involved_.

Ian had asked him if he wanted one after he was released from prison, but Mickey had declined. He didn’t really think anyone (besides Ian) wanted to throw him a party, but in the weeks since he’d moved back in, he’d been surprised at the snippy comments Debbie and Carl had tossed at him about not wanting a party. Even Lip had commented saying, “you too good for a Gallagher shindig, Mickey?” 

Mickey wasn’t sure what to say to that.

So when it was time for Debbie’s own Gallagher shindig after her impromptu release from prison, he was pushed into the whirlwind of planning a party quickly.

Now here he was in the middle of his first official Gallagher Blowout as a member of the family. Three beers deep, his husband wrapped tightly around him as he struggled through the haze from two beers due to his meds, and he wondered why he’d been so adamant in not wanting one of these.

“Debs, you want another slice of cake?” Carl yelled from the kitchen.

Mickey wasn’t sure how, but Carl was designated to be the one to cut the cake Ian and him had picked up earlier. Carl had also been the one who was in charge of getting it decorated. A large face of a baby and the words ‘Congrats’ sat on top of the cake. It caused a joint groan at the inner workers of the second youngest Gallagher’s mind. Debbie had shrieked when she saw it.

He wasn’t sure whose idea it was to put Carl in charge of the cake, but Mickey assumed it probably had something to do with the fact that everyone else had been working or trying to finish last minute details.

For his part, he’d found it funny and had burst out laughing when he saw it, which made Ian glare at him.

As Carl cut the cake, he’d fist bumped him in solidarity because it _was_ a funny fucking cake.

“Shoulda seen mine. There was a burning van,” Ian muttered as they ate the large slices Carl had doled out.

Debbie’s Get Out Of Prison party had been an impromptu one since they had just found out she was getting out the day before. 

But it didn’t make it any less fun. 

In fact, it was a welcome reprieve from all the shit Mickey was balancing between school, work, and kids (although, now they really only had to worry about Liam).

Sandy had gone to pick up Debbie with Franny and Carl. While Mickey, Ian, Lip, and Liam got the cake, some snacks, alcohol, and decorations. They’d invited V, Kev, and the twins over. And much to everyone’s surprise Tami had shown up with Fred. There was only some minor drama when Tami shrieked about Lip staying in the same house as his ex-girlfriend, but as the gathering became a fucking _party,_ Mickey noticed that she’d calmed down. 

Thank fuck for that.

In fact, she was being pretty chill once she had some alcohol.

“Get one for me too!” Mandy yelled from her perch next to Sandy on the couch. 

“Not a fucking maid,” Carl said, but he brought in three pieces of cake. One for Mandy, Debs, and Franny.

Carl then came to lean against the railing where Mickey and Ian were sitting. Mickey on the landing, with Ian resting between his knees as he ate the remnants of a bag of Doritos he’d called dibs on. When Mickey tried to steal a few, he’d slapped his hands away until he pouted enough and Ian caved. Feeding him a few chips, Mickey washed them down with the last dredges of his beer.

“So where’s Mandy going to sleep now that Debs is home?” Carl asked.

Mickey put down the empty beer and glanced at him shrugging. “Dunno. I think she’s going home with Sandy tonight.”

Carl nodded, “I was going to say she could have my room and I could go bunk with Liam.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him in response and Ian giggled from his position between his knees.

“Carl’s got a crush on Mandy,” Ian slurred. Mickey couldn’t tell if the slurring was from a mixture of the beer or being tired. He figured it was probably both.

Mickey shook his head at his drunk husband and turned back to Carl who was glaring down at him.

“Just trying to be fucking helpful,” Carl muttered.

Mickey sighed and shifted his knees a little closer to Ian to keep him propped up as he leaned more heavily into him.

“Thanks, I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Crush or not,” Mickey said smirking.

Carl rolled his eyes, “don’t got a fucking crush. Just being nice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Carl nodded and looked down at his brother who was close to falling asleep with his hand still in the Dorito bag. 

“How trashed is he?”

Mickey ran a hand through his hair in a soothing manner, both for himself and Ian. He smiled softly down at his giant, drunk ginger as he nuzzled his inner thigh and yawned widely.

“Shouldn’t have had that last beer,” Mickey said.

“Tired,” Ian muttered and leaned even further into Mickey almost tipping him backwards.

Mickey righted them and put an arm around Ian to keep him steady, so they didn’t fall on the stairs. “How’s the police shit going?”

Carl shrugged, “not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

Sighing, Carl said, “just wanted to do some good, you know?”

Mickey smiled sadly at his brother in-law and then looked down at Ian who had rubbed his dirty orange Dorito fingers on his jeans.

“Yeah, I know,” Mickey paused to nudge Ian with his knee, “I should probably get sleeping beauty up before he makes the stairs his mattress.”

Carl nodded and helped him wake Ian up. Moving him up the stairs was a struggle when his redhead didn’t feel like helping, but eventually they got him into bed. Carefully, Mickey took his shoes, shirt, and pants off. Ian rolled over to the side of the bed closest to the wall and Mickey looked fondly down at him. Kissing him on the forehead he went back downstairs to clean up a bit before calling it a night.

The party was still in full swing when he got back downstairs, so he went directly to the kitchen and did a few of the dishes. He could hear Debbie asking who wanted shots and when she was greeted with a few stangled ‘yeahs,’ she stalked into the kitchen. Mickey glanced up when she came in and was surprised when she smiled at him.

“Hey, thanks for helping with Franny. Every time she came to visit she’d always gush about you,” Debbie said merrily.

“Oh, it wasn’t a big deal,” Mickey said focusing on scrubbing the pot in front of him.

“It kinda is though. She can be a handful. Anyway, I meant to tell you earlier, you and Ian were lifesavers. I appreciate it,” she said and then in a whirl of red hair she was out of the kitchen again.

Mickey finished off the pot, washed his hands, and then decided to head up the bed finally feeling the tugs of exhaustion. When he got back up their room, he wasn’t surprised to find Ian snoring. However, he was surprised to find his husband wrapped around his pillow instead of his own. Grumbling, he got ready for bed and then nudged Ian over, hoping to get his arms to loosen up enough so he could get his pillow back _and_ be the target of Ian’s snuggles. Instead, Ian woke up and looked at him blearily.

“Mick, where ya been?” he slurred rolling onto his back and letting go of his pillow enough so that Mickey could bring it back to his side of the bed.

“I’m right here,” Mickey said, settling into his side of the bed once he’d plumped up his pillow.

Ian let out a little whine. Wrapping himself around Mickey, he rested his head on his pillow. Mickey could smell the alcohol, but he didn’t really mind, not when Ian was wrapped around him so tightly he was little one of those swirl cones Franny always liked to get from DQ.

“Missed you,” Ian mumbled.

Mickey smiled and said again, “I’m right here.”

“Worried you’d left.”

Mickey took Ian’s hand resting on his chest in his and rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Not going anywhere,” he whispered.

In response, Ian kissed and nuzzled the back of his neck. Mickey knew when he was asleep because the bedroom was filled with light snoring. The sound lulled him to sleep until much too soon Ian’s alarm was going off.

* * *

Mickey had Saturday off from Old Army and he didn’t have class, so he planned on making the most of it. Which meant he was going to lie down on the couch and watch some shit on Netflix. 

He was fucking beat from life shit.

Ian, on the other hand, had some event he had to be present for at his job, so he was dressed and out the door before Mickey had even tried to get out of bed. He’d woken Mickey up to say ‘goodbye’ with a rough, promising kiss and then left him to sleep the morning away.

When he finally got enough energy to get up, he headed downstairs to find Carl watching TV in the living room with Liam doing homework at the coffee table.

“You guys want breakfast?” Mickey asked, yawning.

“It’s lunchtime,” Liam said without looking up.

“Fine, lunch, whatever.” 

“Sure,” they said.

Mickey nodded and went into the kitchen to begin making something to eat. They still had leftover cake from the party and some burgers and hotdogs, so Mickey decided to grill with the borrowed equipment in the backyard. 

He was outside grilling up three hot dogs when Carl came out. He hadn’t been around much these last few weeks. Well, he was never around much, always off doing whatever it was Carl did. He’d figured he was getting in deep with the police, but he was also working on the garbage route, so Mickey had no fucking idea what that kid spent his time doing. All Mickey knew was that Carl wanted to clean up the streets. He wasn’t sure if that was figuratively or literally. But whatever it was, Mickey thought it was admirable. He liked Carl though, because he never seemed to be who you thought he was. 

He had a soft side to him that reminded Mickey a little of himself. He always tried to give off a rough attitude, but underneath he wanted to help the people he loved.

Mickey could respect that.

In all honesty, he liked all of Ian’s siblings.

They all had little pieces of Ian that Mickey could recognize. But while they could get caught up in their own self-involvement, they did care. 

In their own Gallagher way.

He even liked Lip. Could respect him for trying to be a better father to his kid, no matter the situation. He appreciated how much Lip had always cared about Ian too. Without him, he knew Ian would’ve floundered so much more when he was first diagnosed. He reminded him of Ian in how they were both dealt a shit hand because of genetics, but they both rose above it. As far as he could tell, Lip was still sober, even if he may struggle more some days than others.

Debs could be a little full on herself, but Mickey liked how determined she was to make her daughter’s life better. She and Fiona were strong and loved fiercely, just like Ian. He knew eventually Debs would grow out of being a teenager because despite all the shit she’s been through, that’s what she still was.

Liam was easy to talk to. He reminded Mickey of Ian in that way. How he knew when someone wanted to talk or how to push them a little further to be more open. It made Mickey a little more comfortable around the kid even when he knew he was terrible with children.

And while Fiona had a lot of ups and downs (and continued to be on that rollercoaster from what Ian said) he admired her. Wished she was his sister sometimes and he was looking forward (although, he’d never admit it) to when she came home to visit. He’d die rather than say anything, but he kinda wanted her acknowledgement - _her fucking blessing_. He’d always thought they had begrudging respect for each other based on the last time he saw her, when they had to deal with the Sammi shit and finding Ian after he took off with Monica. He loved how much Fiona would do anything to help any of the Gallaghers, just like Ian. Although it hadn’t been as evident before she left, Ian had told him.

Carl had a lot of Ian’s perseverance, which is why Mickey wasn’t exactly surprised when his husband had told him all about Carl going to military school after juvie (which is where Mickey had last heard about him.) and now the police. Honestly, if Ian hadn’t grown up the way he had and seen the reality of the police, Mickey figured he’d join them as well. Carl, though, always had a weird way of looking at life. 

“You need something?” Mickey asked. turning the hot dogs over to make sure they were browned just like he liked them.

Carl moved to hang along the fence and watched Mickey when he finally spoke.

Carl shrugged, “no.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows to see him still watching. “You wanna cut the staring shit out?”

Carl sighed heavily and then bit his lip. “It’s just - well, I need your advice.”

Mickey focused on the grill, not having any desire to get into _another_ conversation like he’d had with Lip with Carl. He was not a fucking therapist. Why did all of the Gallaghers think he and Ian could solve their fucking issues because they were the first two to have a successful marriage?

They still had issues.

They were working through them, but they were still there.

Sometimes he woke up annoyed with Ian for snoring too loudly or hogging the covers. Sometimes Ian told him to go away because he needed space.

They weren’t perfect.

They just fucking loved each other and to them that was enough.

It had been a few weeks since their last _big_ _fucking emotional conversation_ and Mickey had no desire to get into another one about feelings and shit. He wanted to grill these hot dogs, go upstairs to eat, and smoke a blunt until Ian came home. Maybe he’d get to watch something on Netflix besides the shitty cooking show Carl had been obsessed with and made everyone watch. But Mickey didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t have to hear about whatever shit Carl wanted to talk to him about.

When he didn’t say anything, Carl took it as his cue to continue talking despite the very obvious waves of disinterest Mickey was giving off.

“It’s about this girl. I think I lov--”

“Jesus! Fuck! I’m not--” Mickey looked up at the sound of stifled laughter and then Carl became louder when his eyes landed on him.

Mickey stood there for a moment trying to figure out what was making Carl laugh and then he realized. He’d fallen into whatever trap Carl had thought he was clever enough to set.

“Fuck, man, your face,” Carl said laughing. His laughter slowly died down as Mickey glared at him and he wiped his eyes from the tears.

“The fuck, man?” Mickey asked.

Carl smirked laughing a little more, “Lip told me too. Seemed fucking funny.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows in response and gave him his best irritated look. But Carl shrugged and nodded down to the grill before heading back inside.

“The dogs are burning.”

“Fuck.”

* * *

Mickey finished off the hot dogs and left a plate on the table for Liam and Carl before heading back upstairs. He wasn’t really in the mood to deal with anyone or watch another of Carl’s cooking shows, so he went to his room. He laid down on the bed and ate his lunch while surfing through his phone to occupy some time. 

Once he was done with lunch and his phone grew boring, he sighed heavily trying to determine what he could do to occupy his time until Ian came home.

He looked around the room slowly, taking in the pile of dirty clothes, the beer they still had in their room that was now tucked against the wall and the dresser. There were more clothes on top of the beer and a few things that had fallen off the dresser. 

The dresser was overflowing with magazines, empty lube bottles, a few packs of cigarettes, some bottles of pop, he spotted a few lighters too, and a handful of change they had meant to put in a jar to start saving for their future. As his eyes swept through the pile of boxes and other shit, they’d tossed in the corner after moving in here, he began to think that maybe he should clean.

Ian was pretty clean.

He liked things clean, Mickey should say.

Always had.

He remembered when Ian had moved in with them when they lived in the Milkovich house and how he would complain every once in awhile how fucking _dirty_ it was. And sometimes he’d go on cleaning sprees, which Mickey realized later on weren’t exactly motivated by healthy behavior. It wasn’t until prison that Mickey realized how clean Ian was. How much he fucking complained about piss on the seat or one thing in the cell being out of place. He remembered the first few times he found it a little endearing that Ian wanted to clean. And liked things clean. But then he found it fucking annoying.

He wasn’t a maid.

And no one in his house _ever cleaned._

Except maybe Mandy when she’d have a guy over she actually liked. 

_Maybe_.

But lately, Ian was taking on more work in the house like making the meals, packing lunches, helping with Franny and Liam, and trying to make sure all the bills were paid on time. He’d let his neatfreakness slip up. 

At least in their room. 

He knew cleaning up a little would probably go a long way with Ian, especially since he’d been stressed with everything going on. It may not be as crazy as usual in the Gallagher household, but they still weren’t sitting on the couch and eating bonbons or whatever the fuck rich people did.

It would make Ian happy to see a clean room.

The thought prompted Mickey to get off the bed and put the dirty clothes in a pile for laundry. He threw away the garbage around their room and he even stripped the bed to wash the sheets. Looking at the grey sheets from too many washes, Mickey made a mental note to buy them some new ones once they had some money left over. 

As he put a load of laundry in, he decided he’d go one step further and start on the pile of shit they’d moved from one room to another. Most of it was Ian’s stuff since Mickey hadn’t gone back to the Milkovich house since before the wedding. There was nothing there he wanted anyway. He had everything he wanted.

Which was basically just Ian.

Everything else...well, they were just things.

Although there were a few items he wished that Sandy or even Mandy had been able to snatch from the house. 

Mandy had finally visited the Milkovich house (namely to see Iggy) when they knew Terry was out doing whatever it was his dad was up to. After his two cronies got arrested, Mickey hadn’t heard from his father. He seemed to have slithered back into whatever cesspool he’d come out of. Iggy had been letting him know what was going on, which was nice since it gave him an excuse to catch up with him over a joint and a beer at the Alibi. 

He wished that Sandy or Mandy had thought to bring back a few clothes, though. A shirt that had belonged to Ian, who had left it there sometime in the past 10 years. There were some pictures he wished he could get back that he’d drawn. There was a book about sci-fi shit he liked. And then there was the one present Ian had gotten him during a birthday. It was the only ‘official’ birthday they’d had together. 

Until this year, of course. 

The birthdays in the beginning were just night long fucks in abandoned buildings that were accompanied by alcohol and pot. He also had a little box of shit that reminded him of Ian. He’d put it together when Ian had left the first time, when he’d gone to the army.

He doubted any of that was even at his house anymore.

Someone probably thought it was junk.

Why did he need it when he had Ian with him always anyway?

Although, he did still carry around that (now ratty) picture of Ian in that stupid fucking beanie he’d stolen from Mandy years and years go. It was tucked away in his wallet with a newer, sleeker picture from their wedding. Debbie (via Carl since she was in prison) had printed it out and given it to them. It was the same picture on their bedside table in a frame, just a smaller version for his wallet. 

He knew Ian had a different picture in his wallet that he carried around, like he didn’t _also_ have a picture of them as his phone background _and_ locked screen like the goofy soft fucker he was. It had taken forever for them to decide on the one to put in their room.

Ian liked the one of them dancing goofily together (which was his lock screen) and Mickey wanted the one of them shoving cake in each other’s faces (which was Ian’s home screen).

The one they’d decided on for the frame was a picture of them flicking off the camera with their tuxes semi undone and the sun setting in the background. It was one of Mickey’s favorites, hence why Debbie had printed out the wallet sized image and given it to him (via Carl with the edible underwear he’d probably stolen for them). 

Mickey began sorting through the pile of shit. Laughing every so often or smiling to himself when he saw some of the items Ian had held on to. 

He found a box of pure junk. A few boxes of junk, which after looking through it was mostly shit from school or military posters he’d most likely gotten rid of after the shit went down with the army. 

There was a box of just pictures. Some of them were of Ian as a child and others were of the family minus Frank and Monica. There was one very old picture of Frank and Monica that must’ve been before even Fiona was born. He looked at it for a moment, seeing the happiness in their faces and he felt a weird swooping sensation knowing how everything turned out.

He found a shit ton more clothes and then at the very bottom of one of the plastic bags he pulled out three journals. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he recognized one of them.

It didn’t take much to make him realize that the one journal was from Ian’s days in his first manic period. He frowned as he held another weight of their past in his hands. A reminder that they had come so far and were still moving forward.

Their _big emotional conversation_ a few weeks ago still lingered in Mickey’s heart.

It had been fucking rough having _that conversation_. He’d thought about just saying ‘fuck it’ and leaving, but the earnest look on Ian’s face, his desire to know more… Mickey couldn’t walk away from that. Ian wanted to move forward with him and Mickey was eager to match him step for step. It was just fucking hard talking about all this shit.

He hated opening himself up, but for Ian, well, it was worth it.

It would only get more difficult Mickey was sure when they touched on topics like Ian’s bipolar (when it did come up, since Mickey _knew_ it was a lifelong disease. He was there after all.) or his fucking mom (Ian had given him the surface details, but Mickey could tell there was still a mountain of grief he felt). Not to mention that fucking night his dad found them… or fucking Yev. Mickey had no desire to touch that with a 12 foot pole.

But after their talk, Mickey felt better. 

It was different from their talks in prison.

In prison, he still had all this shit left unsaid that he’d held back because he didn’t know if Ian really was staying or leaving. He didn’t know what their future held. But now, after their last _big emotional conversation_ he felt - he felt _better_.

He felt lighter.

He felt unburdened.

He felt like they were going to be okay.

It was the first time that he didn’t feel like things weren’t on his side.

It was the first time that he realized they were finally getting their _forever_ together.

It was a lot to take in, but he felt good about it.

Telling Ian about Mexico. Talking about his past, he was surprised that it was helpful. He thought it would upset Ian and they’d just end up fighting.

Instead, he’d been surprised.

It didn’t break them. It made him realize they were heading toward something almost stable, which was a new realm for them.

Now they had nothing in their way but their own issues, which were shockingly easier to figure out when you had someone on your side. 

With that in mind, he felt like it wasn’t entirely fucked up to look at the journals. He knew the worst of it, nothing in it could surprise him.

Not when he knew Ian inside and out.

Not when they were _good_.

Not when they were finally accepting their past was in the past.

Opening the red journal with fingers that hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he began to read.

Getting inside 17 year old Ian’s mind was a little overwhelming until he began to make sense of what was going on in the journal. 

A lot of the journal had scribbled ideas. 

Some that made sense like a video game about building cars and driving them around.

Some that didn’t like a pasta burger, which sounded revolting.

Every page was written on. At least in some form. Either there were scribbles that Mickey couldn’t even make out or there were long sentences that lacked logic.

A few of them were half pages that started like something out of a confession. Things like: 

_Today I felt like my heart was hammering out of my chest. Mandy’s boyfriend is a fucking asshole. Mandy is making the wrong decision. I have to stop her. Mickey won’t let me kill the bastard, but he needs to be stopped. My heart hurts. I feel like it’ll never stop beating._

Mickey continued to flip through the book. That time coming back to him in waves as he read through what Ian had written as he faced his disease.

As he neared the end of the book, he stopped at one page with his name at the top.

_Mick,_

_I’m sorry._ ~~_I shouldn’t have._ ~~ _Thanks for coming out for me. That was a lot. I shouldn’t’ve asked you to._ ~~_Well, I didn’t really. I guess, I mean I wanted you to. But I never thought you’d I love you so much._ ~~ _You’re amazing. I can’t believe you did that. I’ll be with you_ _f ~~orever.~~ _

~~_Love,_ ~~

_Ian_

Mickey stared down at the letter or speech or whatever it was that Ian had written. He sighed softly and then flipped the page. His heart feeling tight as the memory of that day he came out overcame him.

It was indelibly imprinted in his mind.

The terror. 

So much fucking terror. 

At being caught, at Ian leaving again, at fucking Terry for trying to kill him again. 

But he also remembered the warmth afterwards. He’d kept Ian from leaving. He did it _right_ this time. And things were good. 

So fucking good. 

At least until the next morning when Ian fell into his first low period.

Mickey stared down at the blank page in front of him and began to flip until he was at the very end of the book. It was all blank. 

As if Ian stopped writing. 

He picked up the composition notebook and began to flip through it. The handwriting was messier than in the red book. It looked like it had been written by a child. He realized as he settled on a longer entry that it _was_ from a child.

Ian as a little kid had written in this composition.

Mickey had always wondered if he’d written in a journal more than during his diagnosis.

He smiled softly as he flipped back to the front of the journal and began to skim it. Most of it was school notes, stuff about history and English. There was some math. Initially, this must have been a school notebook and Ian had transitioned into a journal. He flipped back to the entry he’d first come upon and took in the little block letters that looked so primitive compared to Ian’s handwriting now.

He began to read the first entry dated June 12, 2007 and he realized Ian was just 11 years old.

_Ryan and Andrew have been asking if I watch porn. Ryan’s older brother showed it to him. Lip tried to show me when I asked about it, but it was weird. Lip was all excited about it, but I don’t get it. What’s the big deal with boobs and fat asses and shit? Maybe there’s something wrong that I’m not into it? Since Ryan watched it, it’s all he talks about. Andrew keeps saying we should go over to Ryan’s and watch it, but_

_I’m never going back to school again. Fiona says I have to, but I don’t think I do. I could just do what she did and drop out. Except she’s 17 and she says she can do that cause she’s the adult. Whatever. I can take care of myself._

Mickey flipped the page and began to look for the longer entries. Although the shorter ones gave a little insight into elementary school Ian’s brain. Just like the red notebook. He flipped past pages that only had a few sentences on them like:

_Fiona brought a guy home. Lip and I were up all night listening to them. Is that what being an adult is?_

Or Mickey’s personal favorite:

_Lip sucks._

He got to a page with a longer entry and began to read.

_Ryan and Andrew called me a fag today. Fiona says that it’s not a very nice word to describe someone. She said that it means a person is gay, but it’s a mean way to say it. I don’t know why they called me that. I don’t even really know what gay is. Lip says it’s when two men bang. But I’ve never banged a guy. Or thought about it. I mean, the guy Fiona brought home was I guess he was attractive. But that’s normal right? I mean I’m Southside. I’m not gay._

_Fiona told us that Monica left for real this time. Fiona says that every time Monica comes back for a few months and then takes off again. Sometimes I hear her crying in her room. Frank went on another bender. I mean he’s always on a bender but it got bad. He’s missing too. I think Fiona is scared. Lip and her are always talking in low voices. I try to ask what’s going on, but they say everything is fine. I don’t think so cause Debs won’t stop crying until Fiona holds her. Carl hasn’t been sleeping through the night either. Keeps getting nightmares. I don’t get why Monica leaves, but she’ll be back. I mean, Frank and Monica are our parents, they can’t just leave us._

Mickey took a deep breath and put down the journal. He wasn’t sure if he could read anymore of this. It was difficult to think about his own childhood, but when he read about Ian’s - it just, it was fucking heart wrenching. He hoped when they had kids (he was seriously spending too much time with Ian) they wouldn’t be subjected to half the shit the two of them had been put through. Well, Mickey knew they wouldn’t be subjected to that but still. 

It was difficult to read.

Just like it was strange to see that picture of young Frank and Monica.

Putting the notebook down, he turned to the last one. It was brown and about the size of the red notebook. At first, Mickey figured that it was another journal from Ian’s youth, but when he opened it, he noticed two things. 

First, it was not from long ago. 

In fact, it was relatively recent. 

Within the last three years. 

The first time Ian wrote in it was the first week Mickey spent in jail. The second thing he noticed was that instead of ‘Dear Journal’ it said ‘Dear _Mickey’_ as if Ian was writing him letters or some dorky shit like that.

Although, this was _Ian_ , so he probably would’ve written some letters to him.

Maybe it would’ve made Mickey feel better while in lock up.

Mickey hesitated and looked away from the first line that was written down. He wasn’t sure if it was right to read something that had happened so recently. Something they were just starting to figure out how to live with.

Something they were both still working through.

He swallowed thickly and ran his hand over the first page before promising himself he’d just read the first few entries. It had happened like 3-4 years ago. It wasn’t like he was reading about his inner feelings from last week.

(Although, if he looked hard enough, he wondered if he would find a stray journal somewhere.) Ian didn’t consistently write, it seemed unless something was bothering him. And Mickey hadn’t seen him write in a journal since his manic period. But he wasn’t with Ian every second of the day.

His eyes dropped to the ‘Dear Mickey’ line and began to read.

_I’m sorry. I know you hate me. I’d hate me too. I fucked up. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I know I fucked up. I’m sorry. I still love you. I love you so much. Fuck._

_Dear Mickey,_

_Fiona told me writing may help. I think she’s just tired of seeing me look depressed. She’s hardly around anyway…_ _You’ve been in prison a month now. Svetlana has asked me twice if I’ll come visit. I saw enough at the hearings though. I mean, 15 fucking years._ _I don’t want to visit. I’m afraid if I go it’ll just suck seeing you there. Reminds me of when I first visited you in juvie. That was. It was hard. I mean, I already have seen you behind a glass wall and now it’s for 15 years. I can’t stop thinking of 15 years. 15 years. 15 years. 15 years. 15 years. 15 years. I don’t know what to do with that. We already broke up. I know it’s so fucking stupid but I can feel that this is not the end. It’s never the end between us. But 15 fucking years. What am I supposed to do for 15 years? I’ll be 33. 33. 33. 33. 15 years. 15 years. 15 years._

Mickey let out an unsteady breath and felt sick to his stomach as he thought about that time. 

He knew reading more was wrong. 

_He knew that._

But he couldn’t seem to stop. He’d always wanted to know what Ian was thinking during that time. 

This wasn’t the best way to get to know. 

He knew he shouldn’t keep reading, but he _wanted_ to know.

_Really badly._

After their _big emotional conversation_ from the previous week, he was afraid to rock the boat. He didn’t want to get into another conversation about feelings and shit. And a part of Mickey - while he didn’t doubt Ian’s devotion - wanted to know without shaking the newly stable ground they were on. He didn’t want to upset Ian, but he did want to know _more_. 

He smirked to himself at the irony at finally understanding what Ian felt about wanting to know everything about him. Mickey had thought that some things were best to leave buried deep down, but after reading some of the entries, he had a thirst that hadn’t yet been quenched.

The next date was another month and it was after his last prison visit. Mickey couldn’t help but drink in the words.

_Dear Mick,_

_It was nice seeing you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It hurt to look at you. I just knew it was going to be a shitty visit, but Svetlana begged me. And it was nice to see Yev. I wish you hadn’t gone after Sammi. If you hadn’t, we’d still be together. But even I know that’s not right. If you hadn’t gone after Sammi, we’d still be broken up. And that’s on me. I fucking know that. And I don’t blame you for going after Sammi. I don’t. It’s all just so fucked up. I fucked up. I don’t know why I keep doing that. I’ve started taking my pills again. It sucks. Fiona forgets to buy gatorade. I miss you._

_Mick,_

_What would our lives look like after eight years of you being in prison? I had a dream today. You were in it. I think about visiting you in prison. I think about it a lot. It’s so fucking hard to see you though. It’s like watching you be caged with your dad. It’s not fair._

Mickey set the notebook down. His fingers resting on the page to turn it and read another entry. But he knew this was getting really personal and hitting too close to where they just were at now. It was too close to their _big emotional conversation_. 

Besides, he was sure he was going to read any minute about one of Ian’s fucking boyfriends. 

He didn’t want to read that.

He didn’t _think_ he wanted to read that.

But he turned the page anyway and promised himself he’d just read one more and then put it back.

_Mick,_

_I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I fucking hate working at Patsy’s. I hate how empty and dark I feel. I don’t even feel real anymore. Fiona and Lip are so busy with their own shit. Debbie’s fucking pregnant. Pregnant. My little sister. Carl is acting weird. Weirder than normal. Liam, fuck, we’re fucking that kid up. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. I have no one to tell this shit to. Thought about going to see you at the prison again. I don’t know if I can make it up there. I’m so tired all the time. I barely make it through work. I think about that tattoo you got of my name sometimes. How it’s misspelled. How it looked infected. Like I infected you. Again. Sometimes I think about getting a tattoo for you. Surprising you when you get out. I know I’ll see you again. I know you’ll see the tattoo. But I don’t think I could do that. Everything reminds me of you anyway. I don’t need another reminder on my body. I don’t know if I need another one. Not when I think about you all the time. Maybe I do. I thought it would get better. It hurts_

The door jerked open and Mickey’s head flew up to see Ian grinning and leaning in the doorway. He had a twinkle in his eyes, but all Mickey could focus on was the fact he was totally caught reading something he shouldn’t be. 

“Carl said - why do you look like that?” 

Mickey opened his mouth a few times and then glanced at the journal in his lap before looking back at Ian. He tried not to look as guilty as he felt reading his journal, even if it’s from years ago. He swallowed the emotion that had been bubbling in his throat and struggled to say something.

He wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but he felt a little too overwhelmed to pretend he wasn’t snooping in his husband’s innermost thoughts. He probably looked like some asshole caught with his pants down.

“Did you clean?” Ian asked, surprised. Stepping into the room and looking around, Mickey watched as he stared at the newly made up bed and then back at him with amused eyes. 

And then his eyes landed on the journal in Mickey’s lap. 

His smile slowly slid off his face and he looked at him warily.

“Fuck,” he muttered and moved to sit beside Mickey on the floor up against the bed.

Mickey nodded slowly trying to find his voice. He was a little afraid that if he spoke, Ian would hear how raspy it was. He cleared it to make sure his emotions didn’t bubble to the surface.

“Why are you reading those?”

“Found them?” he mumbled, trying to keep the guilt or emotion from reading from his voice.

“So you thought it would be a good idea to read them?” Ian asked an underlying hardness in his voice that made Mickey stiffen.

“ _You’re_ the one preaching about feelings and shit! I wanted to know.”

Ian opened his mouth to snarl back, but Mickey saw his deflate and then nod slowly.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah. You’re right,” he paused and ran a hand through his hair. “What do you want to know?”

Mickey looked back down at the journal in his lap and thought back to his time in prison. He thought about Ian’s childhood, how fucking sad it all was despite being surrounded by his siblings who loved him. He thought back to the bipolar days when Ian was barely making sense. And then he thought again about how depressed Ian sounded while Mickey had been in prison. Why Ian never came to visit.

How everything he’d said to him during their _last big emotional conversation_ had been true. He had questions, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase them. And after reading the entries, he wasn’t sure how much more emotional he wanted to get with his husband. Not when he hadn’t seen him all day. Not when they finally didn’t have to deal with a three year old. Not when they were on such stable ground.

“Why did you write ‘Dear Mickey?’” 

Ian smiled slightly and shrugged, “cause I fucking missed you. And it sounded better than ‘dear journal.’”

Mickey bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. He scooted closer to Ian and put the journal down, so he could look into his eyes taking in the sparking green.

“You’re home early.”

“It’s after 4,” Ian said pointedly.

Mickey looked at his phone and was surprised to see it _was_ after 4. He hadn’t realized it was that late. Leaning against Mickey’s shoulder, Ian reached for the composition notebook and began to flip through it. 

“It looks nice in here,” Ian absently.

Mickey smiled slightly, “my husband’s a neat freak.”

“Huh and here I just thought you were doing it to be a good little house husband.”

Mickey shrugged and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips, letting the house husband comment go for now. Pulling back a little, he searched Ian’s eyes looking for some hint of being upset over finding the journals. Instead, he saw his husband’s clear green eyes projecting the love and trust he had for him.

Mickey felt his stomach warm at the expression on Ian’s face and he ducked his head feeling a blush come on. 

“You don’t have any questions?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey shrugged, “I do, but...they can wait.”

“Okay.”

Mickey took Ian’s larger hand in his and brought it up to his lips to kiss. He smiled when he saw the glint of their rings; the image always brought a smile to his face now. He looked back toward the pile of notebooks on the floor and then to his husband who was watching him with a look of fondness. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Mickey asked after a long moment of silence.

Ian squeezed his hand in reassurance and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at his corny as fuck husband. But as Ian began to kiss and bite down the length of his neck, his amusement dispersed and his desire ramped up.

He tugged Ian away from his neck, so he could catch his mouth and soon enough they were laid out on the floor. 

Ian was hovering over him. 

The journals forgotten for now. 

Mickey was lost in the feel of Ian’s hands on his body, his lips melded over his, the pressure of his hardness rubbing against his inner thighs. Everything else drifted away until they were the only two left in the sanctuary of their room.


	11. I Was Hoping You'd Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian takes care of a sick Mickey on Carl's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I was worried I wouldn't get this up today, but here we are. Thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this little s11 fic! I'm so happy you're enjoying it. Your feedback also gives me strength. I had difficulties with this chapter, so getting your feedback gave me the energy I needed to finish it up. Thank you to those who have commented, kudoed, bookmarked, or just stopped to read! I deeply appreciate it.
> 
> So here's chapter 11. I hope you guys enjoy it! The last chapter I already have mapped out, so I think it should be posted next Friday, but I'll try to get it up earlier. I have a lot to fit in still, so we'll see how it goes. Thank you again to those who have checked the story out, I really appreciate it. Please leave a comment if you'd like to share your feedback!
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!

_"I am longing for your honey_

_I am longing for your love"_

_~Gunshot By Lykke Li_

* * *

The sticky Chicago summer was slowly growing colder. It had crept up on Ian like the way Mickey would sneak back into bed before he awoke just so they could be together.

Every year it astounded Ian how quickly summer moved into fall. It never really dawned on him until Mid-Oct that it was getting cooler and darker earlier. 

This year was no different. 

The leaves were now bright tangerine, crinkly chocolate, and vibrant cherry shades on the small amount of trees through the city. It brought on a certain nostalgia that another year was already on its way out.

Since Debs came home, they had one less thing to worry about, but that didn’t mean things were easy. The Gallagher household would always be a chaotic place and it was growing fuller once again with the presence of Mandy, Lip, and Debbie in the house. It reminded them of how things used to be when they were living together in their teens. A full house, kids running around, and the ever present need to pay someone and figure out their finances, Ian sometimes wondered if this was all their future would hold.

It was strange to think that this time last year he was getting out of prison and waiting for Mickey. It hadn’t felt much like fall back then what with global warming, but this year he felt how much had changed. He was finally in a happy place in his life that he hadn’t been in for a very long time.

It was nice to know that no matter what happened tomorrow, in a month, or even in ten years, Mickey would be with him through thick and thin.

In the early evenings, when they didn’t have to work Ian and Mickey had taken to going on walks through some of the neighborhood. It was a welcome reprieve to the daily heat of the summer and the chaos of the house. There was a strange calmness to everything in the early hours of the evening. It felt ethereal. They’d pass families sitting down to dinner or couples walking their dogs. Everyone seemed a little less on edge in those hours.

On the off occasion, they headed toward Grant, Humboldt Park or walked along the Michigan Lake shoreline. It was some of their only time to be just them. 

Each time Ian passed these homely scenes, he was struck with how much he wished that he and Mickey had this alone time _all the time_. Not just while walking. He’d taken to imagining himself and Mickey sitting down to dinner, just the two of them. Or walking their own dog before they sat down to binge some show on Netflix.

He wanted that.

That calmness that still seemed to elude them despite the fact they were married now and had been for almost a year.

He’d thought that once they both had rings on their fingers everything else would be figured out, but it wasn’t. 

It was far from a happily ever after. 

Sure, they had waded through a lot of issues and Ian felt stronger with Mickey by his side. Mickey had helped him more than he’d ever know. Through the light and the dark days, he was always there. A comfort in a sea of the unknown. 

But he still wanted that quiet, calmness he saw all these other families have. He wanted them to be free from the chaos that had always surrounded their lives.

He wasn’t sure what that looked like though.

He wasn’t sure if they’d ever get that living on the Southside.

As the Debbie drama wound down when she came home, the Lip drama picked up. As far as Ian knew, he and Tami were still seeing each other, but Lip was now back in the house while Tami had the apartment. To add salt in the wound, Mandy was still here and he’d heard a number of fights between Lip and Tami about her. 

Despite the fact he rarely saw them interact, he knew thanks to the thin walls that Tami was upset about Mandy being around because she didn’t trust Lip. Ian wasn’t sure if that was warranted or not. He knew that Lip’s main priority was his son and he wouldn’t do anything to mess that up. 

And Mandy being Mandy didn’t give a shit. She was steadily saving away, hanging out with all the other Gallaghers besides Lip. She almost seemed to go out of her way to avoid him, Ian had noticed. He’d brought it up to Mickey once and all he’d said was ‘good.’

It was still strange though. 

How two people who lived under the same roof avoided each other as best as they could.

Until one day Ian and Mickey had come home late one night after spending their evening out at The Alibi to find Lip and Mandy sitting in the living room and having what appeared to be a pretty serious conversation.

The next morning when Ian asked Lip about it, he shrugged it off and started talking about trying to teach Fred the word ‘dad’ despite the kid being less than one.

Ian had tried to weasel the information out of Mandy, but all she did was quirk her lips and mutter something about finally getting the apology she deserved.

Along with the Lip drama, Ian had noticed that Liam was getting more and more withdrawn. When asked what was going on, Liam had muttered something about hating living on the Southside and Ian could only guess at what that meant. 

He loved Liam, but he was just as closed off as Ian was and it took a lot for him to finally say what was on his mind. He tried to push him a little, but he knew from experience that Liam would come to them when he was ready.

Ian loved his family, he did. 

And he knew that Mickey was fine being around them. 

But ever since they began their evening walks - and maybe before that as well, if he was being honest - he wanted it to just be _them._

All the time.

He wanted a little apartment where Mickey cooked dinner and Ian packed his lunches for him. He wanted a dog they walked every night around the neighborhood or he’d even be fine with a cat. He wanted to sit on a newish couch and cuddle up to his husband without Carl or Debbie or Franny bouncing in with the request to watch something _they’d been dying to see._

It had never been just about _them_.

Ian wanted it _badly_.

Without family members, tiny cells, or escape plans to leave the country interfering with their relationship. 

Just a little apartment decorated the way they wanted.

A little apartment with their name on the mailbox.

A little apartment with a fridge full of food they cooked together.

A little apartment where they could be _free_.

He hadn’t brought it up to Mickey yet.

He wasn’t sure how.

And then he worried about leaving Liam.

Or Debbie disappearing with Sandy and leaving Franny to fend for herself.

Then there was Lip who was barely holding on by a thread.

And who knew what Carl was up to.

These were the moments Ian missed Fiona. Because Fiona would get it. She always got the struggle of family vs. a life worth living.

He often wondered how to bring it up to Mickey, especially when they were still trying to figure so much other shit out.

Not just their current or even future financial situation.

During their evening walks, the constant movement helped him (and Mickey) find the words they’d been holding in for a long time.

Old wounds that still hurt when fingers brushed over them.

Ian found himself telling Mickey more about his time during his low period when Mickey was in prison the first time. And little by little Mickey was opening up about Mexico. 

One night Ian told in detail about coming back after the border and finding out about Monica. After he finished his story, Mickey had wrapped his arms around him and let him sag into him, the way he had at their wedding, in the Kash and Grab all those years ago, or even while they were riding down to Mexico and Ian had begrudgingly told him about seeing Monica and getting a drink with Trevor. 

That fucking shit show.

Once the dam had broken after their first _emotional conversation_ , all that came after was easy. 

Except there was one thing he was holding back.

One thing that had taken him a long time to come to terms with.

He’d written about it in his journal. 

But Mickey hadn’t read it. 

It was something he’d carried around with him for a long time, even after Mickey and him had become a couple.

It was a fear that he’d never be more than just a _warm mouth_ to anyone. 

As he got older, the fear manifested itself even more. It twisted around his heart and dipped into his stomach when he danced at the club and met older men. It reared its head when he was with Caleb and in the way Trevor viewed him. He was never more to anyone than just _a warm mouth,_ another body to fuck. 

Logically, he knew, even at the time, that Mickey was just afraid and freaking out about Frank telling everyone, especially his dad when he said that. 

It still stung to hear that he was nothing more than a warm mouth. That he’d _be_ nothing more than a piece of ass. 

That there was nothing more to him than defined abs and a pretty face. He’d always worried he wasn’t enough; he wasn’t interesting enough or smart enough or fun enough. That he was just a fantasy that wasn’t worth getting to know.

Those old wounds had reopened deeper and grew bloodier in his time apart from Mickey. And while they’d healed the way they only ever did due to his husband, it still lingered. It still hurt. It still made him wonder if Mickey would be interested in him _forever._

He knew Mickey saw him as more. 

_He knew that._

But the fear still dithered, hot and burning in his chest when his thoughts became twisted and dark in the deep recesses of his brain.

He wondered if it would ever come out in the open. If he’d ever tell Mickey about that particular fear. One that only seemed to come to life even more after his diagnosis when he didn’t think he had anything to offer anyone except his cock and abs. 

“...are you listening?” Lip asked, nudging him.

Ian looked over at him, his coffee mug almost forgotten as he looked out onto the street from their back porch. The Southside had yet to awaken this early on a Saturday morning. But he and Lip had found themselves sitting around the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and in need of a cigarette. Since they were trying not to smoke inside (Mickey was the worst at this), Ian had suggested the back porch, so here they sat watching the world slowly come to life.

“Sorry I was thinking,” he said, giving him a sheepish look.

Lip narrowed his eyes at him and then shrugged, “I was asking if you and your other half could go pick up the cake and alcohol? I was going to grab the pizza.”

Ian nodded, “yeah sure. Mickey’s still sleeping, but once it opens we can grab it.”

Lip took a drag of his cigarette and Ian held out his hand silently asking him to pass it to him.

“Can’t believe Carl’s turning 19. Seems like yesterday he was blowing up shit in the microwave,” Ian said quietly.

Lip laughed quietly and passed over his cigarette. “Shit yeah. Soon Liam will be a teenager. That’ll make us feel fucking ancient.”

Ian joined in his laughter and turned to face Lip, “yeah, he’ll probably make it farther than any of us have though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just I mean college and shit. He’s going to go the distance. He’ll probably become a lawyer, maybe a doctor,” Ian said absentmindedly.

When Lip didn’t respond, Ian looked over at him and saw the forlorn look on his face. He felt a pit of guilt form in his stomach knowing how touchy his brother still was about his own missed opportunity. 

He wondered if he’d ever give it another chance. 

Ian knew he would.

Or at least try.

But then he was reminded of his own lost careers - the army, EMT - and he wondered if he got that same lost, woebegone look on his face when someone brought up how he’d fucked up his opportunities.

How he had to start all over once again after prison.

All thanks to fucking genetics.

“I’m sorry,” Ian said quietly.

Lip shrugged, “shit happens. Just like with the army and the EMT shit. Sometimes life has other plans, I guess.”

“Wise words from a wise old man,” Ian said trying to lighten the mood.

Lip scoffed and stole back his cigarette from Ian. “You talk to Fiona lately?”

Ian shook his head, “no, not lately.”

“She’s thinking about coming home,” Lip said off-handedly.

“Really?” Ian asked with raised eyebrows. “Florida not doing it for her?”

Shrugging, Lip mumbled an ‘I don’t know.’

They fell into silence for a long time as they watched the cars pass in the street.

Occasionally, someone wandered by looking slovenly, hungover, and pale faced. Ian drank his coffee and stole hits from Lip’s cigarette. 

He wondered how late Mickey was going to sleep and if he was feeling better after last night. He’d gone to bed early citing a headache, so Ian had tried to be extra quiet and snuggly this morning before he left the bed. He debated after his coffee if he’d sneak a few more minutes of slumber with his husband, but he’d already taken his meds and he wasn’t feeling particularly tired. He just wanted a snuggle. He wanted to feel Mickey’s body against his own.

“So, uh, how’s Tami?” Ian asked, breaking the serene silence.

Lip glanced at him and then shrugged, “we’re taking it slow.”

“You have a baby. How do you take that slow?”

“She’s talking to me so I guess that’s a win,” Lip paused and took a hit of his cigarette before letting out a long sigh. “You know I don’t want to be together just for Fred. But that’s just where we got to, I think. It wasn’t - I don’t know. It’s been a few months and the fights aren’t as bad. I guess that’s something. I don’t know, maybe I love her. Maybe I don’t. But for right now, I want to do what’s best for my kid, you know?”

Ian nodded slowly.

“And that means making sure that I’m there for him and making sure Tami and I are on good terms. So if she wants slow, then whatever,” Lip said, stomping out his cigarette.

Ian watched him for a few minutes and then looked toward the street. “What about Mandy?”

“What about her?”

“Anything happen with her?” 

Lip laughed softly, “think your husband would have my balls in a jar if I went down that road again.”

“Mickey wouldn’t do that,” Ian said and then smirked, “I would.”

Lip smirked, “nothing’s happened with Mandy. Just friends.”

“She’s going to leave again, you know.”

“She’s been saying that since she got here a few months ago.”

Ian shrugged, “she means it.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes as Ian debated on whether he should bring up his future plans for him and Mickey. He hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and he still needed to talk to Mickey, but he was curious to know how it would sound once he put it out there. 

“Besides it’ll be weird when Mick and I move out.”

Lip turned to look at him in shock, “you and Mickey are moving out?”

“Not now, but I’d like to. I haven’t talked to him about it yet, but I figure once we hit our one year...I think we’ll get a two bedroom apartment. I was going to see if Liam wanted to come with us.”

Lip continued to stare at him and Ian began to feel uneasy. Maybe it was too soon for them to move out. They didn’t have that much money in savings, but…Ian really wanted to do this. He wanted Mickey to want this too. Somehow moving into their own place together felt more _permanent._

_Like marriage wasn’t already permanent enough._

“I mean it’s what married couples do, right? They leave. It makes sense, right?”

“Ian, if you want to leave, then leave. We’ll be here for you. Talk to Mickey about it. I think it’s hard, but you’re married and not just ghetto or prison married, but like _married married._ ”

Ian nodded and looked back toward the street. After a few minutes, he checked his watch and sighed. “I should go wake Mick up. Gotta get ready for Carl’s party.”

“Yeah, I gotta go to the apartment and pick up Fred. I’m watching him all day while Tami’s at work.”

The two brothers looked at each other and Ian suddenly felt like something was shifting between them, like this would be the last time they would sit out on the back porch and share an early morning cigarette and a cup of coffee. 

He knew that was ridiculous. 

Lip would always be his brother.

They would always have moments like this. It would just be different now. Lip had a son and Ian was married. They weren’t kids anymore, but they still had an unshakeable bond. Ian would always know where to find Lip and vice versa. That was the thing about brothers, Ian supposed.

He took one last look toward the street where the few trees near their house were losing their leaves and then he went inside. 

Grabbing a cup of coffee to bring to Mickey, he made his way up the old stairs and down the hallway to their room. He pushed the door open quietly and smiled down at his sleeping husband before setting the mug down and crawling back into bed with him.

He tugged Mickey’s body close to him and frowned slightly when he felt how hot and sticky his skin was. Wrapping his arms around his wait to grab his hands, Ian’s frown deepened as he felt his sweaty palms. Kissing his neck gently to wake him up, he heard Mickey grumble something under his breath, sniffle, then cough.

“Mick, time to wake up,” Ian said softly.

Grumbling too low for Ian to hear him, so he rubbed his thumb across the back of Mickey’s hand.

“Mick, you okay?”

“Let me sleep, Gallagher,” Mickey said raspily.

A knot of worry tangled itself in his stomach and he asked if Mickey was okay again. He’d gone to bed last night not feeling well and it only seemed to have gotten worse overnight. He began to bite the inside of his cheek as he waited for him to answer.

“Head hurts,” Mickey said and then a loud round of coughing overtook him. Concerned, Ian propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at his husband. He took in his pale clammy skin and the body shaking coughs. He could feel his EMT training kick in and by the looks of it, whatever Mickey had didn’t seem life threatening. But that didn’t make the nervous energy he felt at seeing his tough badass husband looking weak and sickly go away. Mickey should look weak or sickly. It didn’t sit right with Ian.

“You’re sick,” Ian said sighing softly and moving to sit up. 

“Not sick, just headache,” Mickey mumbled.

Ian smiled softly and pressed a kiss against his forehead before getting off the bed. He muttered a ‘be right back’ and then he went downstairs to grab a cup of water and find something to give him for his head. When he got down to the kitchen, he was unsurprised to see Debs, Franny, Liam, and Carl at the table eating breakfast. 

“Where’s Mickey?” Carl asked, shoveling some frozen waffles into his mouth.

“Happy birthday Carl,” Ian said, making up some toast and pouring some juice into a glass as well as water. He wanted to make sure that Mickey got as many vitamins as he could to hurry whatever he had through his system. He mentally went over what could’ve possibly made his husband as sick as he seemed. He vaguely remembered him coming home a few days ago and complaining that a classmate had come to school sick. But Mickey had also picked up some extra shifts at Old Army and he’d been working hard in school. Perhaps his body was just warning him to slow down. 

Whatever the case may be, Ian needed to find where they had some aspirin or Advil or something to help with his headache. He probably would need to stop at CVS too for some cough medicine since he was 90 percent sure they didn’t have any. If it wasn’t in the little First Aid kit he’d put together - in all honesty, all that was in there were things to help with injuries since they got hurt a lot - then they probably didn’t have it.

“Thought Mickey was going to make breakfast?” Cal asked, ignoring the ‘happy birthday.’

“Mickey’s sick.”

“Will he be well enough to join the party later?” Liam asked in concern.

Ian sighed, “I don’t know. Let’s see how he’s feeling then.”

“There’s some Ibuprofen in my room,” Debbie said as she fed Franny breakfast.

“What’s wrong with Uncle Mickey?” Franny asked, frowning.

Ian smiled slightly and continued making Mickey’s breakfast. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about him. I got him.” 

Balancing the two glasses and plate in his hands, he slowly made his way up the stairs, stopping in Debbie’s room to grab the Ibuprofen before heading to Mickey. He found him exactly where he’d left him, curled up in the bed looking as pale as their grey sheet. He put the dishes on the bedside table and stared down at him for a moment. He told himself once again that his husband was probably just run down and needed to rest. 

Crawling back into bed with him, he gently woke Mickey up again so he could get him to eat and take something for his head.

“Leave me alone,” Mickey whined.

Ian smiled softly at him and leaned back against the wall as Mickey rolled over and nuzzled his belly. He wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist and cuddled into him already looking like he was ready to go back to sleep.

“Come on, here’s some water and Ibuprofen,” Ian said ,trying to get him to stay away long enough to get some food into him. He grabbed the glass from the bedside table and waited for Mickey to move.

Without opening his eyes, Mickey gulped down the water and took the pills offered to him. He sighed after taking them and slowly he opened his eyes to look at Ian.

“You sick?” Ian asked.

“No.”

“You sick?”

“I feel like shit. There’s a difference.”

“What’s wrong?”

There was a slight pause and Mickey shifted beside him. “Fucking Javiar came to class sick. Think I got it from him. He was sneezing and coughing everywhere and shit.”

Ian asked again, “what’s wrong?”

“Headache, tired, throat hurts, kinda nauseous,” Mickey said reluctantly.

Ian sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. He watched as Mickey closed his eyes again and buried his face back into his stomach. 

“It’s Carl’s birthday.” Mickey said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Got shit to do.”

“I can do it.”

“But--”

“It’s just picking up a cake and alcohol. Lip can help with the rest.” Ian said.

Mickey sighed, “I can--”

“Stay in bed and sleep the day away.”

Ian felt him smile slightly and he moved his hand from his hair to rest on the back of his neck.

“I got it, Mick. Just sleep. I made you some toast.”

Mickey nodded and wrapped his arm tighter around Ian’s waist. “Stay with me for a bit?”

“Only if you don’t drool on my shirt.”

Mickey laughed quietly and Ian bent down to kiss his forehead again. He ran his hands back through his hair and waited for Mickey to fall asleep. He’d drag Carl with him to grab the cake and alcohol. They’d stop at CVS too, to get some cough syrup and other necessities to ensure his sick husband got better quick. 

He watched as Mickey’s breathing slowly began to even out. Again he told himself that he just had a simple cold and it would go away with some love and care (and the proper dosage of medicine). He really shouldn’t worry, but the knot of concern was still there. It had always been there when he saw Mickey in trouble, even if it was just because of a simple cold. 

* * *

“Should we get cough syrup or cough drops?” Carl asked, holding up both options in his hands.

Ian glanced over at him and eyed the products in his hands. “Uh, cough syrup.”

Carl shoved the cough drops back on the shelf and watched as Ian went back and forth between buying more Aspirin or Ibuprofen. The ones he’d taken from Debbie earlier had been the last in the bottle. 

“Kinda wish Fiona was going to be here for my birthday,” Carl blurted out startling Ian.

He looked at Carl in shock momentarily forgetting about his internal debate.

“Fiona?”

Carl nodded, “she called me this morning. Told me she missed me or whatever.” 

Ian could hear the ‘but’ in his tone, but Carl didn’t go on. He cleared his throat and bit his lip as he debated how he could push him further to hear what he was thinking about.

“What--”

“It just sucks, you know. I miss her,” Carl mumbled.

Ian was struck suddenly by how much Carl reminded him of himself when he was at his wedding and telling Debbie he missed Monica. Carl, Debbie, and Liam had all been too young to really understand Monica. Fiona had been the only mother they had ever really known. Monica just sometimes blew into town and blew out of it just as quickly. Fiona was their constant. 

Until she wasn’t. 

He and Lip had been old enough to know who Frank and Monica were. They were old enough to miss them. But the three younger ones always counted on Fiona. They idolized Frank and Monica in the way kids did with parents, but they never really saw them as people to trust and who loved them unconditionally. That was Fiona’s job.

“She’s been gone a year now,” Carl added when Ian didn’t say anything.

Suddenly, Ian felt guilt about the conversation he’d had with Lip that morning. At his desire to leave his childhood home and his siblings behind for a new life with Mickey. 

Obviously, it was different. 

Fiona had moved states away. Ian just wanted his own space with his husband. He knew it was justified, but without Fiona or Lip or himself and Mickey, what were Debs, Carl, and Liam going to do? Was he even right in wanting to leave when Liam was only 11 and Debs and Carl were still struggling to find their way? Would his younger siblings feel abandoned? Was it right of him to want a life outside of his siblings? Mickey was fine living where they did. Ian knew he’d stay in that house forever if that’s what he wanted. 

But Ian didn’t want that. 

He wanted to start a life with Mickey; start their own little family.

“Lip mentioned she’s going to come visit,” Ian said quietly.

Carl nodded, “yeah, she mentioned that. For the holidays.”

“You talk to her a lot?” Ian asked, wondering if perhaps he was the only sibling that didn’t talk to her as often as everyone else. Maybe Debbie didn’t talk to her as often, but Ian wasn’t sure how he felt knowing his relationship with Fiona was so fractured. Had been so fragmented for a long time. He made a mental note to call her when he had time.

Carl shrugged, “once a week. Lip talks to her like every fucking day.”

Ian laughed, “he’s always struggled without her nagging him. Remember when he tried to drop out of school?” 

Carl joined in on the laughter. 

Watching him for a moment, Ian turned back to the decision at hand. They still had to go grab alcohol and the cake then make their way back to the house, so Ian could check on Mickey. 

But right now, Ian was grateful that he was able to enjoy Carl’s company, just the two of them on his birthday. He elbowed him gently in the stomach and nodded toward the chip aisle.

“Go grab some chips for tonight, I’ll meet you at checkout.” 

Carl went over to the snacks and Ian watched him go feeling an odd sadness at watching his second youngest brother reach another milestone in life. He thought about Carl as a little kid who cried out in the middle of the night from nightmares or when he would steal his army knives because he thought they were so cool. He remembered when Carl broke his leg skateboarding and when he went to military school after juvie. He wondered when time had sped up and left him behind.

* * *

Placing the cake in the fridge and the beer in the freezer, Ian took the bag of CVS purchases upstairs to Mickey. He found his husband in pretty much the exact same position he’d been in when he left him. Except the covers were kicked off and he was on his stomach instead of his side. 

Ian noticed the cup of water was empty and the toast had been nibbled at, so he went and got him some more water and the soup he’d grabbed on the way home from Patsy’s. It was just chicken broth, but he figured that would help Mickey feel more human than he probably was. Gently shaking his shoulder, Mickey turned his head toward Ian and slowly blinked awake. 

“What?” Mickey asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“How you feeling?”

Shrugging, he rolled onto his side to make room for Ian to slide into bed beside him. He rested his head on his shoulder and yawned again.

“You’re going to get sick,” Mickey muttered.

Ian shrugged, “worth it.”

Ian wrapped himself around Mickey despite the clamminess of his skin and placed a kiss to his temple. “Brought you some soup.”

Mickey let out a low guffaw and a soft smile appeared on his lips. “Nurse Ian.”

“I’d prefer Doctor Dirty, but sure, I’ll be a Naughty Nurse for you.” Ian said lightly.

Mickey’s smile widened and his eyes opened to find Ian looking down at him. “I can just lay here and you can plow into me,” he said sardonically.

Ian snorted, “aren’t you always a pillow princess?”

“Fuck off, man.” Mickey said with no melace.

Ian grinned and kissed him swiftly on his lips. He knew it probably wasn’t the smartest idea, kissing him when he was sick, but the kisses between them were special. Ever since Mickey had finally ‘allowed’ him to kiss him all those years ago, Ian would never turn down a simple or a passionate kiss on the lips. It was something he’d wanted for years (had tried to accomplish for years). 

When he finally broke down those walls and was finally handed something so precious, Ian wanted to take care of it. It was something never taken for granted. It was something he wanted to hold dear, even after so many years. So yeah, he might be sick, but Ian was allowed to kiss this beautiful man he called his husband. 

And he was going to take advantage of it. 

“What can I do for you?”

Mickey’s eyes slid shut and he nuzzled his nose into the soft material of Ian’s shirt. Yawning again, he tightened his grip around Ian’s waist and that same soft smile appeared on his lips.

“I’m sick so I’ll never admit to this, but,” he stopped and Ian looked down to find him gnawing at his lip.

“But what?” Ian asked quietly.

“Read to me?”

Ian couldn’t help but grin at the request and nodded. “Sure, but I gotta get up to find a book.”

“Liam brought one in. Put it on the bedside table. Said one of the characters reminded him of me,” Mickey said drowsily.

Ian nodded, “fine, but first do you want soup or meds or anything?”

“No.”

“Are you--”

“I just want you. Now read.”

Ian chuckled and carefully picked up the book that was laying on the bedside table. He smirked when he saw the title.

_The Outsiders._

“Today, Mr. Rogers,” Mickey grumbled.

“Such a bossy bottom,” Ian retorted as he turned to the first page.

“Alright, let’s see… ‘ _When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…_ ’” Ian began. He glanced down to find Mickey with his eyes closed and already on the edges of sleep again. He rested a hand on the area between his shoulders and continued reading as Mickey relaxed into him.

* * *

It was twilight when Ian woke up. The room was rapidly growing darker and Mickey was still sleeping beside him. Although he noticed that the soup he’d brought up was gone and there was no more water in the glass.

He untangled himself from Mickey and went to fill his glass before cleaning the room up as he slept. He tucked Mickey under the blankets and pressed a kiss to his temple before quietly leaving the room.

He frowned slightly when he heard how quiet the house was knowing that it should be loud with the sounds of Carl’s celebration. He headed downstairs and found the kitchen in a state of chaos with bags of chips, a half cut cake, pizza boxes, and balloons everywhere. He stood in the empty room for a moment and frowned as he wondered where everyone had gone. Setting the plates in the sink, he listened wondering if they’d left or--

“...can’t do that, Carl!” he heard Debbie whine through the open window and he realized that they were all in the yard. 

He stopped to grab Carl’s present, opened the back door, and stepped outside to find his siblings, Mandy, Sandy, Kev, V, the twins, and Tami all outside drinking on the lawn. He rubbed his eyes at the sudden light change and descended the stairs as he took in his family spread out across the yard. He went over to Carl who was standing with Debbie, Mandy, and Sandy.

“Why are you guys outside?” Ian asked, feeling the slight chill from the fall weather.

“Mickey’s sick,” Debbie said as if he didn’t know.

Ian looked at her and then at Sandy and Carl who nodded.

“Didn’t want to wake him,” Carl said.

“How’s he feeling? Better?” Mandy asked, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Mickey’s always been a baby when he’s sick,” Sandy chimed in, stealing her cigarette.

Ian smiled softly, “he’ll be fine.” Handing over the present he’d hidden in the deep recess of the kitchen cabinets knowing that Carl was never going to go looking there. He watched as Carl’s eyes lit up.

“It’s from Mickey and I,” he said.

“Cool,” he said and began to unwrap it to find a Survival Knife.

Carl’s eyes widened and he grinned at him. 

“It’s shock, temperature, and humidity resistant,” Ian said. “Also you can use it to start fires.”

Carl hugged him and Ian picked him up the way he used to when he was kid. Putting him down, Carl passed the knife to Debbie so she could have a look.

“You really think this is a good gift for Carl?” Debbie asked pointedly.

Sandy elbowed her and grabbed it to see it, “I think this is a great gift.”

Carl grabbed it back and began to examine it more closely.

“Just don’t kill anyone,” Ian said playfully.

Carl laughed, “unless they break in right?”

Ian scoffed, “we have a bat for that.”

“And a knife now too.”

Carl moved away from their group and toward Kev and Lip who were trading war stories about their kids. Ian turned to look at Debbie, Mandy, and Sandy who were staring at him expectantly.

“I’m going to head back inside and see if I can get Mickey to eat some more soup. You think--”

“Go, it’s fine,” Debbie said. “We get it.”

Ian nodded, “thanks for moving outside. I was worried--”

“It’s fine, Ian. Mickey’s family,” Debbie said easily.

Ian ducked his head, feeling his inside warms at that statement. He knew Mickey was his family, but to hear his own family say that, well, it meant a lot to him. Enough that it made his throat tighten in emotion and he ducked his head as the three women continued to watch him.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, just make sure Mickey doesn’t have the plague,” Sandy said pointedly.

Ian waved the comment off and turned around to go inside. He stopped to grab some snacks and the rest of the soup he’d brought earlier before heading back upstairs. He had a sick husband to care for and he had every intention of ensuring he had a speedy recovery.


	12. I'm Never Gonna Leave You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey celebrate their first anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a long author's note at the end of the story, but for up here I'd like to say thank you SO VERY MUCH everyone who has taken the time to read this story. You don't know how much I truly appreciate the feedback each and everyone of you gave whether it was a comment a kudo or just a bookmark. And for all of those who even clicked on the story to read, I thank you as well. 
> 
> It was SO fun to write a s11 fic about what may or may not happen to Gallavich. I'd like to think that it'll be super sweet when the final seasons finally airs, but who knows what's going to happen. All I know is that I hope they stay together. That's all I want. No silly breakups or death.
> 
> Anyway, here's a warning for this chapter: it's SUPER SWEET. If this chapter was a food, it would be one of those milkshakes with like 50 different types of candy in it. It's that sweet. Also there is smut, just a forewarning. I hope you guys enjoy!

_“Changes fill my time, baby, that's alright with me_

_In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be_

_Did you ever really need somebody_

_And really need 'em bad_

_Did you ever really want somebody_

_The best love you ever had"_

_~Ten Years Gone By Led Zeppelin_

* * *

The first thing Mickey noticed when he woke up were the cold toes pressed against his own. He internally groaned at how icy Ian’s feet were, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. 

He kept telling Ian to put on socks before they went to bed, but he was adamant that Mickey would warm his feet up with his own body heat.

Mickey didn’t think that’s how it worked.

In fact, he _knew_ that wasn’t how it worked.

This was the third morning in a row he’d woken up with Ian’s chilly feet pressed against his own. 

If he didn’t love the goof so much, he’d push him out of bed, but he liked waking up to Ian’s snuggles.

Even if that meant icy toes burrowing into his skin.

When the winter weather first set in, he was told he had to learn to deal with the cold of the Gallagher house. That’s just how it had always been. The Gallaghers had learned to live with it, but to Mickey, who had been living in Mexico up until this year, it was an unwelcome surprise at how fucking chilly it got in the house.

He found it fucking ridiculous. 

Even living as a Milkovich, when their water was turned off nine times out of ten, it was shitty that they should have to live in a place that was 10 degrees colder than what was acceptable. When he asked Debbie about it, she said that’s just how it always was cause it saved money and he’d better learn to live with it.

It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with winter after living in Mexico. Especially a Chicago winter, so he felt a little out of sorts by how fucking cold he always was.

Ian had tried to make Mickey feel better by buying some toasty socks and sweatpants and those worked well enough, when he remembered to put them on.

“Ian, your fucking freezing ass feet,” Micky grunted pressing his bottom against Ian’s hips to wake him up. Instead, all he felt was the pressure of Ian’s semi-hardness. 

His husband tightened his hold on him and laced his fingers between Mickey’s. Quietly, he heard Ian let out a low grumble.

“I’m going to start putting socks on your damn feet before bed,” Mickey muttered, trying to turn around to face Ian. 

It was always difficult to move out of their sleep position because Ian held him so closely to him. 

Normally, he didn’t care. 

Except maybe for the mornings he had to pee.

Mickey figured it was from years of them sleeping in small, cramped areas, but another part of him wondered if Ian liked having him close to him. He considered asking him one of these days, but he enjoyed his own personal theory that his husband just couldn’t sleep without him.

“Stop moving,” Ian whined nuzzling his nose into Mickey’s neck and breathing in. 

He shivered at the ticklish sensation and finally finished moving so he was face to face with Ian. His arms repositioned themselves around him and brought him closer so they were chest to chest and their legs were tangled together. Mickey could feel Ian’s hardness pressing into his thigh now and the sensation caused the wave of yearning for his husband to increase. 

To get more comfortable, Ian had to reposition their hands. It was only when he smiled a little did Mickey realize he’d been up for awhile.

He leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, smiling when he heard Ian’s sharp intake of breath. They had morning breath, but Mickey didn’t mind. 

Today was a special day.

He kissed him again on his nose right as Ian blinked his eyes open.

“You want to start off today the right way?” Ian mumbled, reaching under the covers with his hand that wasn’t wrapped around Mickey. Mickey could feel his hand wrap around him. He moved in to kiss him again, open mouth and heady as Ian’s warm fingers continued moving up and down as he grew harder and harder. 

He pulled back to catch his breath and lean his head against Ian’s forehead when his husband brought his other hand up to cradle Mickey’s face. It was then that he noticed something.

“The fuck’s on your hand?” Mickey asked grabbing his husband’s fingers and looking intently at the small (and new) tattoo he found there. He stared at it for a long moment, which caused Ian’s hand to cease in its movement. 

There on the inside of his finger poking out of the top of their wedding ring was a little M in a square. Without asking, he slid Ian’s ring upward to see the full tattoo. There were two little boxes with ‘M’s in them sitting on top of each other. It was small, but clearly visible against Ian’s pale skin. Sliding the ring back in place, just the way he’d done a year ago today, he looked up to see Ian watching him intently.

“Got it yesterday,” Ian muttered.

Mickey bit his lip as he thought about what to say. His heart felt inexplicably full at the moment as he took in the tattoo that Ian had clearly got for him. 

Those were his initials. 

On his wedding finger.

Whether or not Ian wore his ring, those initials would clearly stay there for the entire world to see. 

Forever.

“Do you like it?” Ian asked softly.

Mickey took a steady breath in and nodded slowly. Ian unwrapped his other hand from around Mickey’s cock and raised his hand to place it over the tattoo on his chest. The ‘Ian Galager’ that he so badly needed to get fixed. He’d scheduled an appointment in two weeks to surprise Ian with, but typically, his husband had beat him to the surprise. 

Mickey stared down at Ian’s hand on top of the tattoo on his chest and then he looked back up at his husband with eyes that he was sure were red and watery.

“Fuckin love it,” he rasped before moving in for a kiss. He licked into Ian’s tongue, wanting to get as close as possible. Ian broke away and began to leave hot, sucking kisses down his neck until he got to his chest. Placing a delicate kiss to the tattoo, Ian began to move downward, but Mickey caught up and brought him back up to his lips, wanting to savor the feel of their lips melded together. 

He sighed in contentment at the feel of Ian’s skin rubbing against him. At his tongue caressing his own. Even at his icy toes that were pressing further into his own feet. He pulled away for a moment and gazed upon Ian’s face hovering over him. 

He took in how the sun broke through the blinds on their window and kissed Ian’s pale skin. How it made his hair look soft to the touch and fiery to the gaze. His green eyes stayed on him, staring so hard and deep Mickey knew he could see straight into his soul. 

He wanted to bottle this moment, hold it close when the moments in life became too hard or when Ian was having a low point and he wanted to show him that everything was okay. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. 

He moved his head to kiss Ian’s palm which rested on his face. Ian smiled down at him and Mickey grinned back. Moving Ian’s hand from his cheek to his lips, he made sure to leave a lingering kiss on his husband’s new tattoo. He felt the warm metal of his ring against his skin and Mickey wondered if he’d ever get tired of seeing those bands on Ian’s finger. 

A reminder that they’d crossed the finish line.

A reminder that they were meant to be together forever.

A reminder that they had a future.

“You’re beautiful,” Mickey blurted out surprising both of them.

Ian smiled widely and leaned down to kiss him, “knew you only married me for my looks.”

Mickey opened his mouth to respond, but Ian covered his mouth with his and they both got lost in the feel of each other. Their hands began to roam each other’s bodies and Ian’s hand was back on Mickey’s length when there was the sound of a door slamming down the hall and pounding on their door.

“Don’t want to interrupt the fucking love fest, but the waters turned off. Which one of you forgot to pay the fucking bill?” Debbie whined through the door. “I can’t make Franny’s cereal,” she added.

Ian grunted and began to work his hand along Mickey’s length a little faster, making sure to rub his thumb over the head, just the way he knew he liked.

“We’ll figure it out later,” Ian responded swallowing Mickey’s groan as he began to feel the arousal build more and more. Twisting itself into his belly until his body was reacting to Ian’s ministrations. He bucked his hips against Ian’s hand and sucked his tongue into his mouth as Debbie continued to talk to them through the door.

But all Mickey could focus on was Ian, Ian, _Ian_.

* * *

After they’d had their shared shower and Mickey had given Ian a blowjob as a ‘thank you,’ they made it downstairs for breakfast. Debbie was half-heartedly glaring at them, but Mickey didn’t give a fuck. 

Today was a special day.

“Happy anniversary cocksuckers,” Carl said grinning at them. 

Ian gave him an annoyed look, but didn’t say anything as he began to make them breakfast. Mickey sat down at the table beside Franny and Lip who was feeding Freddie.

“So who forgot to pay the water bill?” Debbie asked, looking between the two of them.

“It was me, actually. Ian gave me the money, but I forgot to pay it,” Lip said sheepishly.

Debbie frowned and Mickey cackled in response.

“Looks like you owe us an apology for interrupting our ‘fucking love fest,’ Peppermint Patty” Mickey said in air quotes.

She scoffed, “I didn’t interrupt anything. You guys would fuck through an armoured robbery and a tornado if given the chance.”

Mickey glared as the Gallaghers laughed and he turned to his husband who gave him a little, cute shrug.

“She’s not wrong.”

“Whatever.”

“What are you guys doing for your first anniversary?” Lip asked once he was done laughing. Mickey watched with a smirk as Freddie spit up the mashed up carrots he was trying to get him to eat, getting some onto Lip’s work shirt.

“Mickey planned our day,” Ian stated smiling at him from the kitchen.

Mickey avoided the other Gallagher’s looks as they all turned to look at him.

“So romantic!”

“Awww!”

“Mick, that’s so fucking _sweet-_ -”

“Fuck off, all of you,” Mickey grumbled.

“Ian, you must be over the moon with how romantic Mickey is,” Lip said, smirking at him.

“He’s _very_ romantic actually, just last week--” Ian began, but Mickey loudly interrupted him with a ‘shut the fuck up.’ He was not interested in their private lives being aired out for all the other Gallaghers to hear. Even if those Gallaghers were also his family.

“What did you do?” Carl asked interestedly. 

“I bet he made Ian mac and cheese for dinner,” Liam said, finishing off his own breakfast. “He knows it’s his favorite.”

“Or he bought him flowers,” Debbie piped in.

“Finally murdered Terry,” Carl said with a snigger.

“You’re all wrong,” Mickey said, moving away from the table to get a cup of coffee.

“Then what was it?” Lip asked.

Mickey looked over at Ian who was putting the finishing touches on their breakfast. Ian looked up as if sensing Mickey’s eyes on him and they shared a little smile between them.

Ian opened his mouth to tell him what they did, but Mickey moved in quickly and planted a kiss on his lips. In the distance, he heard his in-laws yelling about getting a room, but he didn’t give a shit. 

This was his home too. 

And this was his husband. 

So he could do whatever he wanted with him - romantic or not.

(But he was going for romantic.)

* * *

After breakfast, Mickey asked Ian to come back upstairs. The rest of the Gallaghers had left by this point, each needing to go to work or school. Mandy and Sandy had taken Franny to the library for reading time, so the house was left to just the two of them. Mickey had wanted to make sure it was just the two of them when he finally gave Ian his present for their anniversary.

He didn’t need anyone else seeing how soft he’d become besides his husband. They could make fun of him all they wanted for how ‘romantic’ he was, but the only person he was interested in impressing was Ian. 

Although, he did suspect that Mandy and Sandy were catching on because sometimes he’d see them making air hearts and kisses at him when he did something particularly nice for Ian.

“So the tattoo was mostly the anniversary present, but I wanted to get you a little something extra too,” Ian began reaching into the back of the bedside table and pulling out a small wrapped gift.

“You didn’t have to get--”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to get the tattoo and I wanted to get you a present,” Ian interrupted, giving him a meaningful look.

“Why’d you get the tattoo?” Mickey asked, eyeing the blue wrapping paper that held his anniversary gift.

Ian shrugged, “why did you?”

Mickey smirked. He’d gotten his tattoo - or really gave himself his tattoo - when he was feeling particularly vulnerable about his relationship with Ian. 

He’d wanted to keep him close. 

Even when their relationship had unraveled at the seams so spectacularly. 

He’d craved keeping his memory alive as he was sentenced to 15 years. 

15 years would be eternity.

Even 8 years was a long time.

He wasn’t sure what would be left for him in the outside world, but he did know that Ian would always be a constant in his life. Whether or not he was actually _in his life,_ Ian always gave him the strength to be himself.

To be free.

And maybe he wanted that reminder with him always.

But there was also the aspect where he wasn’t sure that Ian knew how serious he was about them. Showing him that he’d gotten a tattoo of his name, maybe that would show him that Mickey was all in. 

The last time he’d gone to juvie had been when Ian and him had gotten into that fight about Frank finding him. And then there was the time when Kash shot him. 

Mickey wanted it to be different this time. Not only because it was long and _fucking prison._

He wanted Ian to see that he loved him, clearly, plain as day on his chest. 

Something that lasted forever.

It was only after when he saw Ian’s detached expression did he realize how fucking stupid he was.

But now, Ian wore a tattoo that showed everyone that _he_ was with _Mickey_ . That Mickey was _his_ forever. It was clear as day on his finger for everyone to see. As if the ring wasn’t enough.

And maybe it wasn’t. A ring could easily be lost or broken. It could be removed. A tattoo was everlasting. It was imprinted on his skin. 

Forever. 

Like them.

“Because I fucking love you, man,” Mickey said nonchalantly.

Ian beamed at him and Mickey felt his cheeks redden as he dipped his head to avoid those green eyes he loved to stare into so much. He took the moment to go for his own gift, buried in their jeans drawer. He’d found it a few weeks ago and figured that after so many years of hiding this small obsession he had, he might as well bring it to light.

He just hoped Ian liked it.

It was embarrassing enough to give to him, so he better fucking like it.

Mickey briefly wondered what he’d do to play it off if he didn’t.

But this was Ian. If Mickey gave him a pair of fucking socks, he’d love it because Mickey gave it to him. Ian just appreciated the gesture. 

That was one of the many things Mickey had learned about his husband in the year they’d been married.

It was strange to continuously learn things about someone he knew for so long, but he had a feeling he’d always find out something new about his ginger giant. While simultaneously knowing him better than anyone else. It was a nice feeling. 

“Open yours first,” Ian said smiling serenely at him.

Mickey nodded and began to open the gift. After two tugs of the wrapping paper, he found a dark brown leather wallet in his hand. He smiled to himself as he began to look through it noting how smooth it was. His old wallet had been falling apart for awhile now and he’d been thinking about buying a new one. It was a practical gift - the best kind in Mickey’s opinion.

“I know that it’s not--”

“I love it,” Mickey interrupted.

Ian beamed at him and then looked down at the gift in his own hands. He shook it comically and then began to rip away Mickey’s shitty wrapping job. Mickey watched with bated breath as the wrapping paper fell away.

“I figured I’d lost them awhile ago, but, um Sandy had stuck them in the bag she’d brought over last week and I just - I found them. I wanted - I mean, they aren’t great cause they’re back from high school and shit, but I just - I wanted you to have them.” Mickey stumbled over his words as he attempted to explain why he’d given Ian the book of drawings he’d been doing of him for years. 

Ian knew he drew him, but only when they were inside the joint. Mickey knew that Ian only thought he drew him because he was bored and they had nothing else to do. (There were only so many sci-fi books and time in the yard they could indulge in before that got boring.) Their cell had a few of the images Mickey had drawn of him - specifically in those gold shorts - but they’d never talked about it beyond Ian asking where he’d learned to draw.

This was a book full of images of drawings of Ian. 

Way back when, he’d started a notebook of Ian drawings. The notebook hadn’t been full and not all the drawings were of Ian, but there were a lot. He may have counted at least 20 drawings from throughout the years. That notebook had been in the latest bag of shit Sandy had scavenged for him from the Milkovich house. He’d been surprised to find it at the bottom of the garbage bag she brought over and was even more surprised to find how many drawings he’d actually done. He’d figured it got lost or someone had found it and destroyed it.

He’d carefully ripped them out and put them into a scrapbook to give to him. Some of the drawings were from when they were just starting to fool around. Then there were some from when Mickey missed Ian while he was away in the army. Some were from that summer that had been nearly perfect after he got out of juvie. He’d done a few while hanging around the Kash N Grab and then there were the ones he’d done recently, all the way in the back of the scrapbook.

He watched as Ian thumbed through the scrapbook, pausing on each page and looking at them.

“You did these?” Ian asked softly.

Mickey opened his mouth to make a quip, but when he saw the shininess in Ian’s eyes, he bit his tongue and nodded.

“Yeah, since we - uh, since we started this thing between us,” he said itching the non-existent scratch above his eye.

Ian nodded slowly and looked up at him. He looked right into his eyes, taking in all the aspects of Mickey - the good, the bad, the ugly - and said, “they’re beautiful.”

Mickey smiled, his hands already reaching for him and replied, “you’re beautiful, Ian.” He pressed a kiss to Ian’s cheeks, wet with silent tears and watched as he ducked his head to look back down at the scrapbook. Mickey kissed him on his temple and watched as he ran a finger hesitantly over the image he’d drawn when Ian was sleeping one night.

“Thank you,” Ian whispered.

Mickey pulled him in for another kiss tasting the salty tears on his lips. He buried his fingers in Ian’s hair, needing him closer to him, wanting to feel his skin pressed against his own. He let his hands drop from those red strands he loved to tug on and moved south to the hem of his shirt, playing with the edges.

“Do we have time--” Ian began pulling away from him and taking in a ragged breath.

Mickey smiled softly, “we have all the time in the world.”

Ian moved back in for another heart stopping kiss. His hands moved from Mickey’s face, angling him just right to deepen the kiss. And then those large dexterous fingers moved downward, caressing his neck and then disappearing under his shirt.

“Take--” Mickey began, but Ian was already a step ahead of him. His shirt peeling from his skin. Pressing their lips back together, Mickey let out a little sigh of happiness when their chest grazed.

Mickey had long ago accepted his kink of feeling Ian’s skin on his own. Ever since they’d first hooked up and he’d yanked off Ian’s shirt in the need to feel that pale skin. He accepted it was something he enjoyed from the beginning. And Ian knew that. It was the reason he always forwent a shirt when they hooked up. He knew how Mickey liked to feel their skin pressed together. Even when Mickey was still insisting they were just ‘having fun.’

It was much the same way Mickey knew Ian had a thing for holding his hand as they were pushed over the edge into a sea of pleasure. He didn’t mind that so much either, but Ian really got off on linking their hands as he pounded into him. 

What got Mickey going was seeing their left hands linked and feeling their rings rub together. It was a new kink Mickey didn’t even realize he’d ever had.

Feeling his soft lips melded over his own, Mickey wanted more. He always did when Ian was so close to him. He pressed himself closer to him to feel the plains of pale soft skin slide against his own.

He wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck until they were flushed together, leaving no space between them. Ian moved away and began to kiss a trail down Mickey’s face, his neck, until they rested on his pressure point. He felt Ian’s fingertips dig into his back and he shivered as his nails pressed into his skin.

Mickey tilted his head to give Ian better access to the skin there and he felt his husband’s soft breath dance across his neck.

Ian’s hands ghost across his skin until they were tugging his pants and boxers down his legs.

He stepped out of the discarded garments and reached for Ian’s pants, copying the gesture. Ian pushed him backwards until his bottom hit their mattress. Scooting back, Ian crawled on after him and he cradled himself between his legs.

“I - uh - I have a request,” Mickey said, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Ian waggled his eyebrows at him and grinned, “my spidey senses tell me this is going to be dirty.”

“Okay, Spider-dick, it’s not that dirty. I just want this to be special,” Mickey said in between the little kisses Ian pressed to his lips.

Ian laughed, “oh, you mean--

“It’s our anniversary--”

“I’m aware.”

“It would be different,” Mickey said bashfully.

Ian’s grin widened, “are you saying our love life is boring?”

Mickey snorted and moved to lay fully on his back, “hardly, but it’s a special occasion and that calls for my favorite position.”

Ian laughed in response as he moved to hover over Mickey. Pressing another kiss to his lips, he leaned back a little to give Mickey room to get into position. He wiggled his hips and opened his legs up, exposing himself to Ian. 

“I love that this is your favorite position,” Ian mumbled. 

Mickey wanted to say something snarky in return, but Ian was already grabbing one of his legs and lifting it to place against his shoulder, so Mickey’s legs were wider and allowed for better access. His other leg was resting straight on the bed as the one on his shoulder was being pushed against Ian’s chest. Stretching him in such a delicious way that Mickey let out a little happy sigh.

They’d unintentionally found themselves one night in what some people Ian had learned called the Pirate’s Bounty. When he found that out, Ian wouldn’t stop making jokes about it, until Mickey’s face turned so red it resembled his husband’s hair. Mickey thought it was a weird name, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d learned long ago not to give a shit about what he liked and what other people thought about it. 

Other people could go fuck themselves.

It was Mickey’s favorite position and that’s all he cared about. It was the perfect placement for Ian’s cock to hit his prostate. 

Just the way he enjoyed. 

It was the perfect amount of closeness.

Just the way he loved.

He was facing Ian and could watch him come undone.

Not to mention, Ian liked it cause Mickey always grabbed at his ass to pull him closer and he had easy access to hold his hand. 

He might have to be a bit more flexible and Ian had to press down on his hips to keep him where he wanted him, caging him in with his legs. But Mickey loved how deep Ian was able to go. He loved feeling him move inside him, push him over the edge as he hit him again and again until his vision blackened and stars appeared.

Bringing his hand to rest on Ian’s ass - just the way he liked - he pushed Ian closer, eager for him to be inside him.

“Are you read--”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good from before,” Mickey said, feeling the tip of Ian’s dick press hot and heavy against his opening.

Ian chuckled and began to slowly inch him open, much too slowly for Mickey. It wasn’t until he was halfway inside did he slide the rest of the way home and the two of them let out a breathy moan.

Ian took a moment to allow Mickey to adjust to his girth and then he began to move, slowly at first and then faster as he built up a tempo. The angle was perfect. Hitting his prostate over and over again, building up the intense heat with each movement. Each time going deeper than the next. Mickey knew he wasn’t going to last long in this position - he never did. He felt as if his body was on fire every time Ian thrust deeper and deeper into him, each time better than the time before.

He knew he was letting out a garble of sentences that alternated between ‘fucks’ and ‘I love yous.’ He heard himself moan out Ian’s name at a particularly toe curling thrust.

Mickey bucked his hips upward to meet him as best as he could in the position. Allowing his eyes to close as he got lost in the feel of him. He felt Ian’s fingers lace with his, pining his hand to the bed. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Ian whimpered.

Mickey wanted to pull him down for a kiss in response, but he wasn’t that flexible with his leg still over Ian’s shoulder. 

Ian seemed to see his predicament and smirked at him suddenly. As Mickey was wondering what he was smirking about, in a quick movement, Ian flipped them so that he was on top and Ian was lying beneath him. With those same quick reflexes, he grabbed the back of Mickey’s head so their lips could meet.

His head spun at the sudden change in their positions and the heady kiss. Pulling away, he looked down into Ian’s face. He plainly saw the lust at having the opportunity to watch Mickey ride him. 

This was Ian’s favorite position. 

Mickey knew this because it allowed Ian to watch him get lost in the feel of their bodies working in tandem. The angle was no less pleasurable and he knew that he liked watching him lose control, but sometimes it made him feel a little self-conscious.

Event after all this time.

But his husband wanted it and Mickey enjoyed the angle, so he had no qualms in being the one to take control.

Even if most of the time he enjoyed Ian being in control.

“You can’t have all the fun. Ride me, Mick,” Ian said bucking his hips with a wicked grin on his lips and a gleam in his eye.

Mickey huffed out a laugh and began to move his hips, grinding down upon Ian’s cock, until they found their rhythm again. He felt Ian’s big hands guiding his movements to angle him just right. 

Mickey placed one hand over Ian’s on his hip and the other he held onto his bicep to keep him steady. He felt the pleasant sensation of Ian’s nails digging into his flesh. Looking down at the redhead, Mickey leaned forward to kiss him, shifting the angle.

“I’m close, Mick,” Ian murmured when he pulled away.

“Want me to go faster?” Mickey asked, already speeding up his movements. He always knew what would put Ian over the edge and he had every intention of meeting him there.

He rolled his hips, watching as Ian’s back arched and his eyes slid shut. Mickey was anticipating that he was going to come soon, but instead, Ian surprised him by grabbing his dripping cock and stroking it. He felt his stomach clench at the combination of sensations. Ian’s cock hitting him exactly where he needed it and his hand caressing him in the best way.

Mickey bit down on his lip to keep the moan in that threatened to spill out. But Ian spoke out without even looking at him.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you,” Ian said, tightening his hold on Mickey’s cock. 

He complied. Dropping his head back, he arched his back as his orgasm built more and more, until he spilled over the edge. He heard himself let out more distorted noises as he rode Ian’s cock through his orgasm. He distantly heard Ian let out a deep groan in retaliation and he knew he was coming too.

When he came back down to earth, he looked at Ian to find his nose adorably scrunched up and his mouth hanging open. He could feel the hot sticky liquid from Ian in his ass, but he continued to move back and forth as his husband’s dick became softer and softer. After a few minutes, he slid off of him and fell on the other side of the mattress.

When their breathing had returned to normal, Mickey rolled onto his stomach, so he could rest his chin on Ian’s chest. He stared at the little prickles of stubble he could see poking out of Ian’s skin and he smiled serenely at how blissed out he felt.

“You ever think we’d get here?” Mickey whispered. He wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to be quiet, but he didn’t want to break the little bubble that surrounded them after Ian made him feel like that.

Ian glanced down at him and then smiled looking back up at the ceiling. “You’ve asked me that before.”

“I know.”

Ian let out a long breath and then cleared his throat. Mickey knew he was buying time before voicing whatever was on his mind, but he didn’t mind. He’d wait forever just to hear Ian’s inner most thoughts.

“No. I, uh, I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” Ian admitted softly.

Mickey continued to stare at him. He watched as Ian continued to stare at the ceiling and then finally turned to him. Flickers of sadness resting on his face.

“But I’m glad we did,” he added.

Mickey grinned, “figured the border was our goodbye.”

“I didn’t,” Ian blurted out.

Raising his eyebrows to portray to Ian how little he believed that, he smiled in response.

“I didn’t. I mean, maybe I did in the beginning. Watching you drive away...it was fucking hard. But I didn’t think it was the end. I don’t think our story has an ending,” Ian said bashfully.

Mickey grinned at that, “our story? Like we’re The Notebook or some shit?”

Ian giggled, “I can’t believe you know what The Notebook is.”

“It was the only available thing to watch for movie night in prison. Imagine 100 grown ass convicts crying over that fucking love story. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye for a fucking week,” Mickey grumbled.

Ian laughed again and wrapped his arm tighter around Mickey’s waist. Mickey brought his hand up from where it rested on Ian’s abs to cradle his face. 

“What’s your favorite part?” Ian asked as their eyes met.

“Favorite part of The Notebook? I don’t fucking know. Maybe--”

“No. Although, I’d love for you to tell me that too.”

Mickey laughed and moved one of his legs to tangle with Ian’s, bringing him a little closer.

“Favorite part of us?” Mickey asked.

Ian shrugged, “I guess. I just - I mean what I love about you the most. I love the way you - you protect me.”

Mickey smirked, “is that all you love?”

“I’m serious. I know, I know, I’ve never been the most thankful when you’ve done things for me. But the way you protect me, that’s - that’s something I love the most about you.”

“You have a list of this shit?”

Ian grinned and brought a hand to rest over Mickey’s tattoo. “I might have a list. Somewhere.”

“Somewhere, huh?” Mickey asked, resting his chin on Ian’s chest. He brought the hand resting on his tattoo to his lips and kissed the new tattoo on the inside of Ian’s finger.

“I love how you take care of me,” Ian added quietly.

Mickey shifted beside him, feeling the blush take over his face. “We don’t have to--”

“What about you?”

Mickey worried his lip between his teeth and watched Ian stare at him. His eyes held that doe, wide eyed look that he used to give him a lot in their youth. Mickey had gotten used to seeing it when they’d be fooling around and Ian would step over the invisible line he’d set. He’d give Mickey that look and wait for him to do something to push him away. 

He considered ducking the question all together, but something in Ian’s open expression made him hesitate.

“I love how generous you are,” Mickey said, kissing him gently on the lips to puncture his point. “And I love that you’re driven. And I love how you care for me too. When I was sick - that was nice.”

Ian smiled softly at him, “you don’t only love the way I look?” 

Mickey snorted, “I mean, you are hot, but no. It’s not just your looks. I wouldn’t have fucking married someone based on their looks. Hell, I wouldn’t have married anyone except for you.”

Ian was silent to that and Mickey was glad that he didn’t bring up the fact he _had_ married someone that wasn’t Ian once upon a time.

“So I’m not just a pretty face?”

Mickey grinned, even as Ian looked earnestly at him. “You’ll always be a pretty face to me. Even when you’re old and can’t hear me yelling at you or that red hair I love so much turns white. I got you, Gallagher. Forever. Warts and all.”

Whatever was going through Ian’s mind seemed to be sated when he heard Mickey say those words because he leaned in and placed a rough kiss to his lips. He tasted salt mingled with their kiss. 

He knew that even if he wasn’t always confident in how he expressed himself, Ian seemed to be pretty happy with what Mickey was willing to give.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves moving together again, this time faster and more urgent, both consumed by their need for each other.

* * *

Eventually, Mickey knew they needed to get up. He hadn’t planned a busy day for them, knowing they would want to spend a majority of it in bed, but he did still have plans for them. However, small they might be, he was looking forward to Ian’s look of surprise and awe. 

Mickey never thought of himself as a romantic man. Far from it, if he was honest with himself. But he did look forward to surprising Ian and showing the redhead how much he loved him. 

He’d become addicted to seeing that look of softness in his husband’s eyes when he went above and beyond for him. Whether it was something small like picking up his favorite Kind bars or something larger like getting himself thrown back in prison to be with him, Mickey loved seeing those green eyes sparkle in astonishment and adoration. 

He’d seen that look for 10 years and it never seemed to get old.

In fact, it just made Mickey want to do things for Ian for the rest of his life.

And now he finally had the chance. 

He looked down at Ian who was dozing and gently kissed his neck, moving up toward his mouth. Ian let out a little happy moan and blinked slowly coming back to life.

“We gotta go,” Mickey said softly.

Ian gave him a sleepy smile and nodded. “Good, I was getting hungry.”

“We have a few stops before we head over there.”

He yawned and then they slowly got out of bed and began to get dressed. Mickey headed into the bathroom first and rinsed off before he got dressed in a charcoal button down shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He grabbed a heavy jacket since it was cold outside and waited for Ian to finish getting ready.

Once Ian had taken a quick shower and dressed, Mickey double checked they had everything and grabbed the backpack he’d prepared while the redhead was still getting ready. Yawning, Ian slung and arm around his shoulders and they began to make their way through their neighborhood.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Mickey said, elbowing him in the side.

“Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You have.”

“And I’ve learned my lesson. Now, tell me, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Mickey said, directing them through their neighborhood. The walk wasn’t that far, at least the first part of it. They were almost there when Ian let out a loud laugh.

“The dugouts?” he asked as the baseball field came into sight.

“Couldn’t resist,” Mickey said with a shrug.

Ian shook his head, but Mickey could see the amused grin on his face.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Ian said quietly.

“Didn’t take all your boyfriends here?” Mickey asked, trying to tease him, but there must’ve been something in his voice which made Ian give him a pointed look.

“Just you. Only you.”

Mickey turned away from him and handed him the backpack so he could climb over the fence. Once he was on the top of it, he reached down for the bag and then continued his way into the dugouts. Ian followed after and they ducked into the covered area away from prying eyes. Mickey reached into the back and handed over a beer with a grin.

“I know it’ll fuck with your meds--”

“I got my husband here to take care of me,” Ian said with a twinkle in his eye

Mickey rolled his eyes at the dopey look on his husband’s face, but took out the knife anyway so they could shotgun the beers, as was tradition. They both made a hole in the beer cans and suctioned their mouths over it as they gulped down the chilly liquid.

Despite the cold weather, Mickey felt warm. After the can was finished, he let out a loud belch.

He slumped against the fence and watched as Ian finished off his beer and let out his own burp. He gave Mickey a lazy grin and moved forward to place a kiss over his lips.

“You’re a hidden romantic,” Ian slurred slightly when he pulled away.

“Figured you always knew how romantic I was,” Mickey replied leaning in for another kiss.

“I always saw you,” Ian said earnestly.

Mickey ducked his head, feeling bashful at how true that statement was. When he looked up, he found Ian studying him.

“Yeah, you always could,” Mickey said softly.

Ian leaned forward to rest their foreheads together, breathing in Mickey’s expelled air. 

“You always see me too,” he whispered.

Smiling softly at the comment, Mickey moved forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Pulling away, Ian giggled and reached for Mickey’s belt. He could feel the shift in the atmosphere when he looked back into his husband’s mischievous eyes.

“Wanna go again? It’s tradition, you know.”

“Absolutely. If you have it in you,” he replied with a lecherous grin.

“Always.” 

Mickey began to undo Ian’s belt with practiced ease. He dropped to his knees and took him into his mouth. He ran his hands through Mickey’s hair and cupped the back of his head. He heard his head drop back against the fence as his mouth moved over him. He cupped his balls the way he enjoyed, massaging them in time with his movements.

As he found his pace, he hollowed out his mouth to bring him more pleasure. Ian hardened with each movement of his mouth. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t realize how close his husband was until he felt the tug on his hair to alert him to stop. He got the hint and pulled away dragging a hand around his lips to get rid of the residual moisture. He got back to his feet and immediately was pulled into a heady kiss from Ian. When the kiss was broken, Ian turned him around and pushed him forward to bend at the waist.

“Fucking amazing,” Ian muttered.

Mickey shimmied his pants down as Ian got behind him. He felt his hand fall to where it always did on his back and with a fluid push, he was inside him again. 

Despite the cold outside, Mickey felt cozy and warm as they fell into an old rhythm.

It wasn’t slow and sensual like it had been at home; this time it was fast and hard. The way it always had been at the dugouts. Long ago memories of their last time there rose to the surface, but Mickey pushed them away happy to make new ones. 

* * *

“I have a surprise for you,” Mickey said as they climbed back over the fence as the sun began to set.

“Isn’t this whole day full of surprises?” Ian responded.

“Yeah, but this one just happened to work out today. It’s not anniversary related. It’s just - a surprise,” he said.

Ian looked at him with curious eyes and Mickey grinned as he began to lead them toward the L. They had a short train ride to the cafe they were meeting her at.

“What is it?” Ian nagged him on the way to their destination.

He’d asked the same question the entire way toward the platform, but Mickey was intent on keeping it a secret until they got there.

“And you say I’m impatient,” Mickey said with an eye roll.

Ian grinned and took his hand as they were bustled around on the CTA. 

“So what do you think year two of marriage will hold?” Ian asked as the train started up again.

“I dunno, man. Another year of being together?” Mickey scoffed.

Ian smiled softly, “I was thinking we could move out.”

Mickey’s head whipped to look at him in surprise. “You want to move out? Of the Gallagher house? Like for good?”

Ian nodded slowly, “I mean yeah. Is that okay with you?”

Mickey stared at him not knowing what to say. He watched as Ian began to fidget beside him and before he could respond, he realized that it was time to get off the train. He gestured for Ian to leave with him and he followed as they pushed through the crowd of people. 

“So what do you think?” Ian asked as they made it out of the platform and back onto the street.

“Ian, whatever you want to do. I’m fine with. But if you really want to move out--”

“I do.”

“Then maybe we should save up a bit more money? Wait until we have a solid plan? Maybe until the summer when Liam is out of school and it’ll be easier to move.”

Ian gave him a warm smile and took a hold of his face gently to kiss him. Mickey smiled against his lips and reluctantly broke away.

“We’re here.” Mickey said nodding toward the cafe.

“What?” Ian asked slightly dazed. 

Mickey gestured inside to the cafe again and watched as Ian’s eyes widened in recognition.

“I know how much you miss being an EMT… Lip helped me, so I can’t take all the credit, but, uh, Sue agreed to meet up and chat. You know, I probably shouldn’t have gotten you slightly drun--”

Ian grabbed him by his head again and kissed him hard on the lips. When they broke away, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Mickey smiled softly at what he saw there - nothing but love.

He felt his heartbeat pick up at the look and he wondered if he’d ever peer at his husband without feeling such adoration. 

He hoped not.

Ian took his hand and looked at him with those wide doe green orbs. He was worrying his lip and Mickey couldn’t plainly see the nerves on his face, but he squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

“Thank you.”

“I know it means a lot to you.”

Ian nodded and he opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to struggle with what to say before moving in to kiss him again. But even if Ian was unable to say what he wanted to thank him, the kiss told Mickey exactly what he needed to know. 

Ian was thankful and he loved him.

Mickey leaned in to the kiss, seeking out his tongue until they both had to break away for air.

“Happy anniversary,” Mickey said quietly.

Ian grinned back, “so was this the big surprise?”

Mickey bite his lip, contemplating if he should ruin the last reveal, “no, we’re going to Sizzlers after this. Figured you still owe me a steak.”

Ian’s smile was blinding as he leaned in and kissed him again. Mickey brought a hand to cradle his face. He knew he was probably wearing a look of amazement, but sometimes, it felt otherworldly that they were even able to do this at all. 

Stand out on the street as husbands and kiss each other in public.

Mickey had to sometimes take a moment to marvel at how far they’d come.

How far _he’d_ come.

For a moment, it felt like the world stopped and it was only them. The way it always did when he gazed into Ian’s eyes.

“You ready to get your job back?” Mickey asked softly, breaking the moment.

Ian nodded and took his hand again as they walked into the cafe to greet Sue. 

Mickey watched as Ian hugged the woman and they sat down together to ‘catch up.’ Mickey knew she was looking for signs that Ian was still Ian even after prison. So he sat there and watched as they went back and forth, discussing possible job opportunities and what they had been up to. 

And after, if Ian gave him an extra thorough and heated kiss as they walked toward Sizzlers to celebrate their one year anniversary, then Mickey knew that the second year - and every year that came after - would be just as great as the first year of their marriage.

10 years may have been gone since their first hook up, but Mickey knew there were decades more to live with the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so so very much for all the great feedback! I hope you guys liked the final chapter. If you did, leave a comment or a kudo! 
> 
> So here's the part where I would tell you what story will be coming out next. However, I do not know. I have outlined two separate stories I wanted to do, both AUs but I was also thinking canon compliant. The thing is nothing is speaking to me, so I'm really not sure what I'll be writing next.
> 
> I've been writing Gallavich since this hell year has started and it's gotten me through so much, not just corona. It's been so lovely writing in this fandom and I've really enjoyed it. It's also helped me get back into writing every day, which is so nice. My new years resolution was to write every day and Gallavich has kept me on a strict schedule. 
> 
> I've loved having these two amazing and gentle fellows with me on my writing journey, so I'm sorry that it's come to an end (however brief that may be). Hopefully some idea will come to me soon and I'll be back writing Gallavich, but for now, I'll be taking a step back. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


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